Flamedancer
by paper0wl
Summary: A Karsite Sunpriestess meets a Herald under highly unusual circumstances. But there is more to this woman than just her Black Robes.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is my first attempt at fanfiction. I've had the idea for this story for a while, but it took being _really_ bored in class one day to start writing.

Please read and review. I need to know if it is any good and if it is (hopefully) what needs work.

Hope you enjoy it.

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><p>It was a beautiful autumn day. There were few clouds in the sky and not a hint of rain. The trees had begun to dress themselves in their wide range of bright, fall colors. The temperature was warmer than usual, enough that many people brought their summer clothing back out. The harvest had begun, and all so far it looked to be a very good harvest. Hope and happiness seemed as abundant as the autumn leaves this year in Karse.<p>

And the leaves were especially beautiful this year. Most of the green had already turned to brilliant reds and oranges, with large patches of yellows. The entire effect looked as perfect as if it had been painted by a very skilled artisan. The trees in the temple garden were particularly striking. When the sun hit the leaves just right, it seemed as though the trees were on fire. What could be a more fitting tribute to the Sunlord?

Noise drew her attention away from her contemplative thoughts. The late afternoon sun shone brightly, providing more than enough light to clearly see down to the courtyard below. The courtyard was crowded and people spilled out the sides. The novices were required to attend, all of them, regardless of age or other duties. What was unusual was that many of the higher class also turned out to attend. They were taking the opportunity to rub elbows with each other, to put on a pious show, and simply to observe the novelty. Nothing like this had occurred in many years.

They considered this to be entertainment.

The thought made her angry and nauseous at the same time. They did not think. They had all been trained not to think. It boggled her mind what people could be made to accept. They did not think, merely accepted what was handed to them, without questioning. They considered this perversion of fire to be entertaining. Fire was pure. The use of fire in this ceremony sullied that purity. They were all – every one of them! – blind to this blasphemy. The few who believed otherwise would never say so aloud. To do so would be to invite death. If anyone knew enough to know this was wrong, they also knew enough to keep quiet about what they knew. Those who did not, well, as a rule, they did not live long lives.

This was wrong. It was not holy. Nothing about this was cleansing. Murder should not be considered to be a social event. And no matter what fancy names they put on it, it was still murder. As far as they knew. Everyone here would watch the death of one innocent of wrong-doing. The victims never did anything to warrant this, their crime was one of inconvenience, independence, or curiosity. Those gathered here _knew_ this was so, or they _should_. They _would_ know, if they just thought about it, but they didn't think. They just swallowed their indoctrination and watched. This wasn't real to them. It didn't touch them. And that was the true crime of it all. Not just the death of an innocent, but the death of innocence, the death of compassion and rational thinking. No one even knew to mourn.

She knew, however. She thought. She knew this went against everything Vkandis stood for, knew that He was full of sorrow for the actions of His children. She also knew that He could do nothing. She studied the old texts in the library, the texts from before priesthood became a thing of corruption and destruction. Even a god faced constraints. The Sunlord would not be able to restore Karse to its former glory until conditions were met and circumstances were right. He could not interfere with the free will of his people, not unless the world itself was at stake. The people had turned away from the teachings of the Sunlord, though they knew it not. The Sunpriests knew. Or, at least, they had, once. She no longer knew if that was so. Maybe this had gone on long enough that the Sunpriests had begun to believe the false teachings of those who had come before them.

She knew enough not to ask.

Movement in the doorway caught her eye. She restrained her sigh with long practiced ability. It was time to begin. She turned and followed the others as they descended the ornate staircase, disturbing one of the temple's cats from its nap. The gilded banister, the hardwood floors, the fine pictures on the walls few ever saw – this is where the treasury funds went. The money wrenched from the people was used, not to benefit the people, but for the enjoyment of those who could well afford to pay for such things themselves. The Sunpriests were not shepherds, but wolves, preying upon the flock they should have been protecting.

She joined the others and they took their place in the courtyard. All talking ceased the moment they entered. The crowd knew it was time. A red-robed priest led the assembled masses in prayer.

Prayer. What a joke. Vkandis did not hear their prayers. _No_. In her heart she knew that was wrong. The Sunlord heard their prayers, but He did not answer. She loved the Sunlord with all her soul; she believed He watched over His wayward children still. He was there. He just could not help. Not yet. Not for far too long.

Too soon the prayer ended. As if the silence was a signal, the guard entered. She forced herself to remain as expressionless as one of the marble statues that adorned the Temple. She could do nothing to stop the proceedings. She could run shouting through the courtyard, through the kingdom even, screaming for people to open their eyes, to see the truth, and little would be accomplished. She would die, as would many who had heard her, whether they believed or not. Nothing would be accomplished. Watching this, though, it was a knife to the heart. It always was.

In the arms of the guards was a desperate man. The crowd drew back, their eyes wide. The man was obviously still in the clothing he had been captured in; the signs of the fight were clearly visible. His wrists were bound together and a gag prevented him from speaking. His ankles were loosely bound, enough that he could walk, but not far or fast. They probably could have forgone the ankles bindings, the northerner couldn't have gone anywhere fast; though it was hard to tell through his struggles, she had the sense that he was limping . He must have sustained injuries to his legs. Then again, the ankle restraints also prevented the prisoner from lashing out with his feet. That was a possibility in this case. He had the will to fight, and certainly the motivation. He knew what was coming. They all did.

He struggled vainly against the grip of his captors. Were he not injured, she doubted the guards would have been able to keep hold of him. Like all of the victims, he was not drugged. The Sunpriests had long ago decided that one must _feel_ the flames to be Cleansed by them. Another thing about the proceedings that sickened her. It was just one more horrible thing in an entire process she believed to be sickening.

The man thrashed wildly, trying to get away. Without the injuries, the guards could never have held him, but then, without the injuries he would not have been captured in the first place. He was brought to the center of the courtyard. The place was already prepared. This ceremony had been performed many times in this same location. Far too many times.

His eyes were filled with panic and despair as they bound him to the stone pillar rising from the center of the courtyard. Bundles of dry wood were arranged around his feet. More bindings bound his legs to the pillar as well, preventing him from kicking at the wood with his feet. The man was helpless as the guards retreated. A priest in black robes stepped forward, a torch held in his hands.

The sight made her ill.

She forced herself to remain motionless as the Sunpriest touched the burning torch to the wood. The wood didn't catch. She watched the Black Robe Sunpriest touch the wood again with the torch. This time his hand twitched ever so slightly and the flame caught. Had she not known to watch his hand, she never would have noticed the tell-tale movement. She knew too well to watch his hand when the wood didn't catch, however. She had seen this happen all too often. The wood quickly fell to the flames. She pushed away her emotions and began.

She stared deep into the flames as they moved to consume their victim. She no longer paid any mind to the man's struggles, too focused on weaving her complex web of magic. She had woven this web so often it was nearly second nature, but it was intricate, and the smallest flaw could lead to failure – or discovery. She knew full well that if she was discovered at her work, she would join the man in the flames, but she did not intend to let that happen; she had been doing this for long enough to catch any flaws long before they contaminated her working. Though this was no frightened child, a willing recipient of her magic, she had enough experience to adapt her web to this new victim. And like the children she was used to working with, this man wanted very much to live, so on a subconscious level he too was willing to accept her power.

She built her web from the ground up, so to speak. She used the power within her, knowing that such a thing would not be noticeable. Only if she reached outside herself for power would anyone take notice, for only then did she cause enough of a disturbance to the currents of magic to be noticed. She had a great deal of practice in going unnoticed when she performed her magic. They knew she had magic, oh yes, but she saw no reason to broadcast her power. Those with great power often died prematurely in Karse. Especially here in Sunhame, capital of Karse, home to the Sun Temple and large numbers of congregated Sunpriests. It was never a good idea to be noticed by the Sunpriests. Those even among the ranks of the Sunpriests who were deemed too talented or too independent, they often met unpleasant ends if they weren't carful. And they were rarely careful enough. Not even the Sunpriests were safe from the predation of their fellows.

Her webs consisted of many intricate strands, which were carefully woven into the whole. Each strand was carefully chosen for its purpose. Her web needed to do much, for it was not a simple thing she did. It was a simple idea, but a very complicated process. She did not begrudge the intricacies, however, for she knew nothing worth doing was ever simple. She knew her web was needed. She had had a long time to work on her web and far too much practice once she got it working. She had had plenty of motivation to construct the web in the first place. She only wished she could have learned to construct it sooner. Even though part of her knew she was lucky to have gotten it working as young as she had. She had been forced to wait until she had come into her full powers before she could build her web, and she had done _that_ rather young. She had planned it for years beforehand, though.

She completed the final twist of the web and released her power, not in an impressive show like the others were familiar with, but with the subtlety that had enabled her to remain undiscovered this long. Her web took effect immediately, and in good time it was, because the flames had already begun to blacken the man's white clothes. The man would not notice any difference now, nor would any of the others assembled here; it was a very good spell.

Her face remained smooth and calm through the whole process, allowing no hint of relief at the spell's completion, no sign of the furious spellcasting she had just been engaged in, and certainly no indication of anger at her associates gathered her with her. She knew better than to allow her feelings to betray her, even as bile rose in her throat in response to the spell of burning flesh.

She remained as she was in the crowd, watching the flames, critiquing the appearance of her working, searching for anything that didn't seem quite right, any tiny thing that might give her away. As usual she saw nothing. She knew she did good work, but she always had to check, ensuring there was no difference, no flaw, however small, that might reveal the truth and consign her to the flames.

These flames, however, had their own task. She found herself studying the prisoner as he vainly struggled against his bonds. She allowed herself a faint ghost of a smile as the flames gave the man's white garments the same black color as her own robes. The fear and agony reflected in the man's eyes above his gag, however, brought her back to her usual impassable expression, the one she used so frequently to mask her true feelings. She never liked this, not since she was a student here, forced to watch as one of the other girls burned. It had been the first one she had ever witnessed. She hadn't known her web then, she had only learned to construct it years later, after she had achieved mastery of her powers. She had formed her web in the desperate determination to never again stand idly by as innocents burned.

Nothing like her web had ever been constructed before, to her knowledge. Few in Karse had the necessary inclination to do something of this sort. Those with the ability to handle power as strong as what she could use were also in short supply. And with the organization of the country, it was nearly impossible for the two criteria to coincide. One might have said it was impossible, but there was her. She had retained her own thoughts and her own will through all those years of study. She had both the desire and the power to make it happen. It had taken a great many years of independent study and a great deal of practice, but she had managed to get her web to function as she wanted it to.

The man didn't notice the changes wrought by her web; that was the point. If the one in the flames noticed, then the others would as well, though she often wished she could do more to spare the chosen victims. She had heard it said that fire was one of the worst ways to die. She just needed to look at one of the victims to know this was true. She saw the terror in his eyes, the pain in his face as the fire ate at him, but she did nothing. It pained her to stand here and watch him writhe in pain, to watch any of them. It was worse to watch the children go through this, though. Children could not defend themselves, and every instinct screamed at her to protect them. Maternal instinct it was called. She had never been a mother and she doubted she ever would, but she wanted to protect these children all the same. This man was just as helpless as any of the children she had seen pass through these fires. She tried to ignore his panicked grunts and desperate jerking. Everything she could do had already been done. Now she could only watch and wait.

The crowd stood motionless, intently watching as the flames devoured the northerner. He had only been brought here yesterday, but they had wasted no time in giving him to the flames. She thought it was just as well, one day of warning was more than enough time for her to prepare her web, and it meant they hadn't taken the time to torture and break him. He had borne the signs of ill treatment, but he hadn't been tortured.

Technically.

She was grateful they had decided on a rapid execution. Then again, had they tried to interrogate him, he would not have survived to be sent to the flames, and they had wanted the public execution. It was something to distract the people, something to keep them occupied, to remind them of the power of the priesthood and of the Sunlord, and to remind them of their Enemy.

The web was almost finished now, the flames nearly done. The fire burned hot, as it always did. It was the responsibility of the Black Robe who lit the fire to ensure it remained strong. All traces of the prisoner were reduced to ash. As the flames burned down she let her web dissipate. She reabsorbed what power she could, and grounded and scattered the rest. She was very careful to remove any hint of her handiwork; this was not something she ever wanted anyone to discover.

Satisfied all traces of her interference were gone, Lillian gathered the folds of her black robe around her and joined her fellow Sunpriests in breaking formation.

Now that the Cleansing fire had finished, all of the gathered witnesses were released to return to their normal duties, although there wasn't much time until Sundescending. Lillian suspected that once the Sunpriests left to prepare for Sundescending, the others would stay to socialize, likely about the Cleansing death of the prisoner. The prisoner was not something anyone living in Sunhame had ever seen before, although they had all heard stories.

That was not her concern though; lesser priests had the chore of listening to idle chatter, so the Red- and Black-Robes would know how best to manipulate their "flock." _Of course, _she thought to herself, _no one else really considers it manipulation. The priests are too arrogant, and such ideas have long been trained out of our citizens._ It was a harsh thought. _We are supposed to be _protecting_ them, helping them, not using them, not burning them when we _can't_ use them. _Lillian hadn't come this far without knowing what not to do, and speaking her thoughts to any of the other priests would not accomplish anything except her death. So she kept her thoughts behind a tight shield and followed her fellows out of the courtyard, heading to her place for the Sundescent rituals.

Sundescending was a routine part of the lives of all of those who lived in Karse, more so for those in the priesthood. Every member of the Sun Temple was expected to attend the ceremony at the conclusion of every day, with exceptions being made for those who were ill. If you entered the Cloisters, you were also expected to attend Sun Rising and noon prayers daily as well. As you progressed in your studies and entered the priesthood, you began to be allowed to lead the services. Lillian had long ago thrown herself into her studies, so she had been leading services for many years, regardless of her young age. She was one of the younger Black Robes dedicated to Vkandis, and certainly the youngest such priestess, not that there were many Black Robe Sun_priestesses_. It was always a simple matter for her to lead her convocation in the appropriate prayers and return to the Temple.

Every person living in Karse was expected to attend the sun ceremonies. They were not required at all of them, although such attendance was encouraged, but Sundescending was the most important of the daily prayers. Everyone was expected to attend Sundescending, unless they were ill, infirm, or very far from the temples. Those living farther out were still supposed to come on Sunsday, but it was difficult to enforce. Nearly everyone came, for if it was noted that someone was frequently absent from prayers – well, they tended to be visited by demons in the night. It wasn't always easy to identify the remains, for the night-demons did not leave much behind.

As a Black-robe, Lillian had the ability to summon and control the night-walkers. She was very grateful she had not been called to do it often. She hated the summoning even worse than the Cleansing. There was no respite for the victims of the demons. And although they were not _called _"demons," typically referred to as "Dark Servants" instead, she knew them for what they were. Each time she had been performed the summoning required by her Black Robe, she had returned feeling sick. Handling the things left her feeling dirty, as if something of the creatures had rubbed off, contaminated her by association. Not there was any evidence of something like that, and she had Looked plenty hard. It was just her conscience nipping at her, leaving her troubled. The demon-summoning made her feel just as sore at heart as the Fires of Cleansing.

Lillian saw the creatures as another telltale sign of the hypocrisy of the Sunpriests. _If our Great Enemy in the North employs demons, and we do as well, why are the Valdemarans such a threat? _No one noticed, no one wondered. They were all too afraid of the priests and the night-demons to say anything, even if, by some small chance, the thought occurred to them. Not that anyone thought anymore. Fear was a potent cure for curiosity.

She knew that wasn't fair. Out in the hills, the wilds, away from Sunhame, where the inhabitants weren't constantly under the thumb of so many powerful Sunpriests, _there_ some people thought. Maybe. Perhaps even some living closer experienced some independent thoughts. Not enough, though. And whoever did think, would never say anything. It didn't matter. Independent thoughts were isolated events. They were rare occurrences, and unpredictable. It could, in theory, strike anyone, and there was no telling how the person in question would respond. _Just look at me, _she thought. _Who could have guessed I would hide my convictions behind Black Robes? Or that I would learn to spin my web against the Fires of Cleansing?_ Cara knew. She had always known. The little girl who saw so much, she had seen what Lillian would become.

Lillian shoved her thoughts away, hard. _Why is it that every time there is another Cleansing, my thoughts turn grim and melancholy? _ It was a rhetorical question. She knew the answer perfectly well. The Cleansing itself was grim and melancholy, and it never ceased to remind her why she did this, why she fought so hard, why she rebelled against the indoctrination that should have turned her into either a mindless drone or an arrogant, self-absorbed Sunpriest.

The Sundescending ritual was routine for her. It did not provide enough of a distraction from the earlier ceremony. She could not put the damned Cleansing out of her mind. She wished she could. Sundescending ended too soon, in her opinion. Lillian was not looking forward to returning to her quarters, oddly enough. She knew she had not planned for this properly. There was too much to do and not enough information. There was no telling the other's reactions, beyond the obvious "not well," which was unfortunate. She did not want this meeting to go badly, but she knew too well how likely it was to do so.

She put off her return as much as she could, trying to think of anything that might be helpful. She no longer had that luxury when she returned to her private quarters in the Temple. She hesitated once she reached her chambers, but after this long she knew that this was not something she could put off. The spell of sleep she wove into her working was brief and had already run its course. Under the circumstances, he would already have awakened, and would certainly have many questions. If she procrastinated it would only get more difficult. Lillian took a deep, fortifying breath and opened the door to the chamber in which she had put the Herald.


	2. Chapter 2

Malachi woke up on a pallet in a small, austere room. This was very strange, because not only had he never seen this room before, he had not expected to wake up at all. Actually, he had never expected to experience _anything_ again. Death was the end, or a beginning, depending on personal views of the afterlife. Nowhere, however, had he ever encountered any sort of philosophy that described anything remotely like this as a form of afterlife.

The room had no windows, but nor was it dark. He saw lantern brackets attached to the walls in intervals, but they held no lanterns. Instead they held some type of ball that gave off a steady pale white-blue light. The lights were like nothing he had ever seen before, certainly not like any lantern he had ever encountered – or heard of. Lanterns did not give off a steady light. Every single lantern that he had ever seen flickered; if someone else had encountered a steady lantern, the news would have spread faster than a plague. Lanterns flickered – that's what fire did.

Then he remembered the fire and the feel of the flames on his flesh with a shudder. And found to his surprise that he _could_ shudder – without pain. Or rather – without the pain one expects after being burned. He had a pair of cuts on his upper right arm, another handful on his forearm and several along his left arm; two fingers on his right hand and some ribs were broken; a deep bruise on his left hip and a cut just above his right knee; a twisted ankle; various cuts and scratches; not to mention all of the bruises to his face; those were all from the fight and his – brief – time in captivity. He had pain in his shoulders and rope-marks on his wrists from struggling against his bonds. He also had a very mundane headache.

Other than some burns present on his clothing, there was no indication that he had just been burned alive. Except – he hadn't been? The fire still burned in his memory, he could feel it reaching for him, consuming him, but then how could he have ended up here, with nothing more than superficial burns on his Whites? It hadn't been a nightmare, the singe marks on his clothes could attest to that fact, but he didn't have any burns on his skin. At all.

The injuries at least told him that he was still alive, which was as strange as everything else. He had been captured by Karsites and used as fodder for their accursed fires. _No one _survived their fires. The Sunpriests didn't want their prisoners to escape their execution. He had been sent to be executed. He had been burned in front of an assembly of the most powerful Sunpriests in all of Karse. So how in the Havens had he ended up here, relatively uninjured?

It just didn't make any sense to him; it only made his headache worse, so he lay back down, only to have a sudden thought make him bolt upright, to a jolt of pain from his broken ribs. Darvin! Malachi tried to reach out along their bond, but still couldn't reach his Companion. He could feel that Darvin was still there – somewhere – but he couldn't actually reach him. After he had been captured he tried to contact Darvin, but had found himself blocked. He was still blocked now, except there was a different – almost a _flavor_ – to this shield. He didn't know what it meant.

For that matter, he didn't know what _any_ of this meant, he only knew that it didn't make any sense. He tried to think it through, but all that he got was a headache and a sense of confusion; no answers appeared among the confusing and contradictory facts. He was about to give up in frustration when he heard the sound of a door opening.

Malachi froze. He suddenly felt very uncertain, and wasn't sure if he should be afraid. On one hand, there was nothing to defend himself with in this room, and even if there was, he wasn't sure if he would be able to fight. For that matter, he was certain he would be unable to put up much of a fight. He was the next thing to helpless and completely at the mercy of this visitor. On the other hand, he was almost too confused to really be afraid, and a part – albeit a _small _part – welcomed whoever was coming, in the hope that maybe they had answers for him.

The sight of a woman in the Black Robes of the Priesthood of the Karsite Sun God entering the room brought forth a surge of fear.

The Black-robed Sunpriests were the demon-summoners; they had the strongest magicks, and had the highest rank. A Black Robe had also been the one to set the torch to his pyre. Even if he showed no outward damage from the flames, he still _remembered_ them. Remembered his futile struggles to get away from the heat, from the flames that licked at his skin, leaving agony in their place. Remembered the agony, never ceasing, only growing, from the heat and the fire. Remembered his despair at being unable to do _anything_ at all, trapped and helpless, dying alone, surrounded by enemies and unthinking civilians watching his final moments in uncaring silence.

The memories carried with them a paralyzing fear, but also an anger; an anger that they wouldn't be done with him, like a cat playing with a mouse it caught, tormenting it, not letting it find escape even in death, for surely only the powers of the Black Robes had enabled him to retain the memory of being burned alive without any of the physical damage.

The anger swept through him, replacing the debilitating fear, giving him the strength to prevent the fear from returning as he awaited the latest action of his captors. Once again he wished for a more combative Gift. Strong Mindspeech with a touch of Empathy and Animal Mindspeech might be excellent for reconnaissance, but it did little in combat, especially when the Sunpriests had shields as strong as any of the Heralds.

He raised his eyes toward the priestess, intending to meet her gaze, to show that he was uncowed by their methods of torment, and that he would not bow before them. He intended to stare at her, as cold and unfeelingly as they had stared upon his pyre.

What he saw in her face, however, caused the fury to vanish like water in a suddenly broken bowl. Malachi didn't see any signs of the gloating or arrogance he expected on the face of the Sunpriestess. Instead he saw weariness, frustration, and uncertainty. This unexpected turn of events made him stop and study more closely this woman, who was _not_ what he had anticipated. None of this was making any sense at all.

She was slender and did not appear to be overly tall, but she carried a sense of power and authority. She was mostly of the Karsite type, with sharp features and brown hair. Her hair was apparently braided down her back, but he couldn't determine the length from where he was sitting. Her eyes were unusual, not the typical Karsite brown. Instead, they were a silvery-gray, much like smoke. The strange lights gave more than enough illumination to see the weariness in her peculiar eyes. But it wasn't a _physical_ weariness. It was more the weariness of someone who was trying to bail out a leaky boat with cupped hands – as much as they could get out, more keeps coming in, faster than they can stop it.

It was the expression of someone who knows they are fighting a losing battle. It stood in stark contrast to her Black Robes.

Other than her face, there seemed little to set her apart from the other Sunpriests. Her Black Robes had the same elaborate trappings, with a golden medal displaying the sun-in-glory hanging from a gold chain around her neck. Malachi suddenly realized the priestess had stopped in the doorway, watching him as he studied her. He felt awkward and uncertain. Presumably this woman was the reason he survived the Fires, but he didn't think it was to torment him. Taken in concert with her expression – perhaps she had wanted to save him? But if so, why? It still didn't make any sense. If she had tried to protect him, why had he still _felt_ the flames? He had felt the agony quite clearly, even if the flames were somehow illusionary. But they couldn't have been illusion – his clothes were singed, and the Black Robe who ignited his pyre would have noticed if it was illusion – right?

This was just making his head hurt again.

He didn't think studying her would produce the answers he wanted. "Where am I?" Malachi asked in Karsite. He knew her language, but he doubted she would know Valdemaran. He didn't really think the Sunpriests would put enough effort into learning the language when they didn't have the chance to use it. Maybe a scholar might know it, but even then, their accent would be simply atrocious due to the fact that they would never have heard to spoken and they would hardly advertise such knowledge. No one in Karse who valued their life would let the Sunpriests know they knew the language of the Demonspawn.

"You are in my private quarters," the priestess in the doorway replied. There was a stiff quality to her words. Almost a tentative tone, a hesitation. He was at her mercy and _she_ was hesitant? What in the Havens was going on?

Did she expect him to know where her quarters were? Her answer was not very helpful. Although – did that mean the other Sunpriests were unaware of his location? There had to be better places to stick a prisoner, places a lot more secure than private quarters. Then again, these were the Sunpriests he was talking about. He didn't know of a more power-hungry, back-stabbing bunch anywhere on the map. Their private quarters were probably _very_ private, and very secure. Under the right circumstances he doubted they would hesitate to eliminate a rival. Permanently. He needed more information. "Where is that?"

"The Sun Temple," she answered. "While not the Temple proper, this building is still considered to be part of the Temple. We are closer to the rest of the city than the Cloisters, though, actually _between_ the city and the Cloisters." She grimaced. Not much, but enough that he noticed.

_Why the grimace? I mean, _I _would grimace at that, but that's because I dislike the methods they use to control the children. _The Children's Cloisters were towards the middle of the Temple complex, positioned where the children would be better guarded from potential escape. The children were kept isolated in order for the Sunpriests to control them as much as possible. Kept in the heart of the Sun Temple, the children wrenched from their families were only exposed to what the Sunpriests wanted them to see.

"How did I get here?" That was something he really wanted to know. How he ended up here from being in a _fire_ in a room full of _Sunpriests_. She could have hardly walked off with him. Maybe he should have rephrased the question, though, because when he put it that way the answer was kind of obvious . . .

"Magic," the priestess said simply, with an enigmatic smile.

He barely managed not to roll his eyes. He bit back a retort of "That was real helpful, thanks." Sarcasm and captivity generally do not mix well. His feelings must have shown on his face, though, because her smile widened for a moment before dropping back to impassivity.

"It is very complicated," she elaborated. "The short of it is that I used magic to spirit you out of the fire while simultaneously convincing everyone involved that nothing was different."

"Everyone involved" evidently had included _him_ as well, because he certainly had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. Although he supposed that was necessary; if he had realized there was something strange about the fire, the gathered Sunpriests would probably have noticed too, from his reaction.

This was all very interesting, but he wasn't getting anywhere with the answers. Perhaps he shouldn't complain, however, because _he _was the prisoner and yet _she_ was answering the questions. Normally it was the other way around.

Still, something very strange was going on, and he could not make heads or tails out of it based on what he knew. Finally, in a desperate attempt to get solid answers, he gave voice to his confusion. "Why?" Malachi asked, summing up the heart of his confusion in that one word. He winced inwardly when he realized how insecure that statement sounded.

She must not have noticed, or least not have been surprised, because a faint smile graced her face. The smile didn't reach the weariness in her eyes though. "Because," she replied in a tired voice, "the priesthood is wrong. What they do is wrong, and most of what they teach is wrong. I do what I can to help those I can."

So she had acted to save him! He had figured as much from the way this conversation seemed to be, but that still didn't explain much. It raised even more questions, so Malachi tried another inquiry. "How? How did . . . " he trailed off, suddenly uncertain if he was being rude and not sure what to ask first.

This time her smile had a touch of irony. "You already asked how you got here. How did I manage to pull it off in a room full of Sunpriests, you mean then? More magic. And practice." Then she added softly, "Too much practice."

Practice. That was interesting. He had not been expecting that. But then he could never have expected most of what was happening. Did she mean . . . "You mean you've done this before?" He asked, startled by the idea.

For a moment her only response was to raise her eyebrow. She met his eyes. There was a fire and a fury in her eyes that made him look away. "Do you really think someone who would betray her vows and rescue one of the 'enemy' would stand idly by as children were murdered? Children guilty of nothing more than inconvenience?" she asked, her voice thick with scorn and anger.

Malachi looked away, embarrassed and confused, yet again. But he knew the anger wasn't directed at him – it was toward the priests who "murdered innocent children." He understood her point – in fact he shared her anger, it was well deserved – but this was _not_ what he expected to hear from the lips of a Karsite Sunpriest, especially a Black-robed one. Everything about this woman was a paradox; she was confusing and contradictory. How could he reconcile her words with her rank? He clearly remembered her standing with the other Sunpriests at the ceremony earlier, staring at him, cold and impassively, as he struggled in vain against the ropes that trapped him in the flames.

The memory of the fire made him shudder again, but this time it disturbed his broken ribs, and he let out a pained gasp. He looked up to see the woman starting towards him, and with the memory of the flames fresh in his mind, all he saw was Black Robes, coming at him. Fear surged through him again, and he had to _get away!_

He scrambled backward – only to drop back to the pallet to pain. His sudden movement had summoned a wave of agony from his ribs, as well as reminding him of his dozen assorted cuts and bruises that he had almost forgotten in the face of the priestess.

He lay back on the pallet, trying to take shallow breathes because it hurt to breathe, trying to make the pain subside, when a whisper of movement recalled his attention to the woman standing in the doorway. Malachi sat up, trying to be careful, but still with a grimace as his abused body shouted in protest. He saw that the priestess had retreated to her post in the doorway; this time, however, she was looking down, putting her face into shadow. More than his questions or confusion, his panicked retreat away from her had upset her. She must have heard his pained gasp – how could she have missed it? – and wanted to help him. And he had fled from her in fear.

Those with the Healing Gift were gathered into the priesthood, just like all the Gifted, he knew. Her Robes announced she was a Priest (Priestess?)-Mage. It was rumored that they could Heal even without that Gift. Whether she had the Healing Gift or not, it was likely she knew enough to help his injuries. He also knew, often as not, that the healing knowledge was often used to inflict pain. In his pain, he had judged her by what he knew of her office, because, still, he had trouble reconciling her actions with her Robes.

He knew he should say something to break the barrier of awkward silence that had risen, but didn't really know what he could say. He had acted in accord with everything he had ever learned about Sunpriests, and while her actions still confounded him, she _was_ a Sunpriest. "I'm sorry" sounded _far_ too much like submission under the circumstances, and regardless of the fact that he was helpless and at her mercy, he refused to submit to a Sunpriest, even a confusing one. Perhaps especially a confusing one. None of his questions would be appropriate now, so he settled on starting over.

"Hello. I'm Malachi Rowen," he stated in his most pleasant Court voice.

The priestess in the doorway jerked her head up, startled. Then she blinked and smiled, a true, sincere smile, the first he had seen her wear. It erased the lingering traces of the weariness from her eyes, and again, her expression didn't seem to fit with her clothing. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she replied. "I am Lillian."

"No surname?"

"No. We have to give up all worldly blood-ties when we enter the service of Vkandis."

"Oh. Okay. Um, pardon my asking, but if you dropped your family name because you entered the priesthood, why did you leave your title out of your introduction?"

"Well, I figured you already knew my title, and I decided it would be more – _diplomatic_ – not to remind you. I've heard that my title doesn't make a very friendly impression. I have also found that my title has a reputation of its own. One that, while generally well deserved, makes it difficult for me to have amicable relations with people."

"Is that a diplomatic way of saying your title causes people to be fearful and less than willing to trust you?" Whoops. That ended up a bit more blunt than he had intended.

The corners of her mouth twitched, ever so slightly. "Indeed it is. And you can see why I would have thought such a description was less than polite." There was real humor in her voice. Was she enjoying this?

His own mouth twitched as well and he nodded. "I do see, and I have heard that as well. In any case, it is nice to meet you, Lillian, though one might have wished such a meeting had involved better circumstances."

The twinkle in her eyes was hard to miss, even if she did still try (rather unsuccessfully he thought) to hide her smile. "I have often found that one does not get much say about the circumstances they find themselves in. While the situation we find ourselves in could certainly have been better, it could also have been worse."

"True," Malachi said, trying to hide his own smile. "For example, I could very easily have been burned at the stake for being a Demon Rider with a Hell-Horse out of Valdemar." He was finding that small talk, making light of the situation, was doing much to ease his tension. He saw the priestess – Lillian –relax her stance somewhat, and guessed it was doing the same for her.

"Well, if you persist in wearing those awful clothes, in that rather ill-fated color, I am afraid that such things are a distinct possibility." She must have been just as uncertain as he had felt, but she slipped easily into this playful banter. He was rather pleased that they were joking like old friends, considering their inauspicious beginning. Malachi hadn't really been sure if it would work; this wasn't exactly the sort of situation they covered in his class on "Courtly Graces."

He looked down at his Whites, and realized they hardly looked like Whites anymore. The white cloth was torn, slashed, dirty, blood-stained, covered in sweat, and burned. His uniform looked like hell. Not surprising, really; he _felt_ like hell, and the pain was making it hard to breathe. "I am afraid I was not given much choice of wardrobe since I arrived here yesterday." Was it really only yesterday? It felt like forever ago. "I have not had the chance to change into better clothes, although I suppose these are appropriate. We are called _White Demons_ after all. I doubt I could be mistaken for anything else while dressed this way."

The tension had finally drained out of the Sunpriestess, he was glad to see. _What is this world coming to, _he wondered, _when a battered Herald is trying to play nice with a Black Robe Sunpriest?_ But it wasn't simply playing. He wanted to be nice to her, if only for the cold-blooded reason that she was the only way he was getting out of here. There was more to it than that, though.

It was partly what she had said earlier, that she had betrayed her vows to rescue him, someone she should consider an enemy. He wanted to understand why. What had happened to make her see the truth of the world, and to try to fight the injustice from the inside? As much as she confused him, she also intrigued him. And he still wanted to know how she had pulled off her trick in full view of the most powerful Sunpriests in all of Karse. Of which she was a member. So why had she rescued a Herald of Valdemar, someone she had certainly been raised to hate and fear?

There were so many questions he still wanted answers to, but he didn't want to disrupt the fragile balance they had going. The unlikely pair that they were, they seemed to be getting along rather well. He did not want to disturb the friendly banter they were presently engaged in. He had almost died, and since it appeared he was safe, all he really wanted at the moment was to smile and laugh, to put the memory of the fire put of his mind for now. He was still injured and would need to spend a lot of time healing. There would be time for his questions later. For now he just wanted to try to relax, which he had not thought would be possible while in Karse. Relaxing in the company of a Black Robe – he would never have considered such a thing to be conceivable, not in his wildest, most far-fetched dream. Had anyone suggested such a thing to him – well, he probably would have smiled politely and brought the poor fellow to the attention of the Mind-Healers.

"I suppose I could find you something to wear, although it seems a shame to ruin such good clothes that way," the woman mused, unaware of his thoughts.

"Ruin good clothes? Hmph. I would rather keep my tattered uniform than put on one of those ridiculous robes. Black! Who wants black when they could have pure white?" Malachi responded with good-natured offense.

"Besides the fact that white is a dangerous color in Sunhame? Well, if that is what 'pure white' looks like, I can see why no one would want to wear it," the Sunpriestess replied with an air of superiority.

Malachi grinned despite himself, unable to hide his amusement. Although Herald's Whites _were_ pure white, _these _Whites were anything but. He had inadvertently set himself up for that he knew, which only made it more amusing. He wondered what anyone else would think of this situation if they could see it. A Herald, injured and in the heart of enemy territory, smiling and joking with a Black Robe Sunpriestess, both in their respective uniforms. Alex would have called him a flirt, and mad of course, but Alex was safely back in Valdemar, riding Circuit. His friend had departed Haven several months ago, in the company of a young Herald on his Internship. As for a Sunpriest – well, if they didn't have an apoplectic fit and collapse at the blasphemy, they would probably condemn the pair of them to the Fires of Cleansing immediately.

He was suddenly struck by a worry, but he didn't want to ruin the good humor. "I hope no one can hear you maligning my uniform," he retorted, trying to disguise his worry. "I don't think I could take the shame."

She must have understood his concern, because her reply, while not straying from their banter, assuaged his fear. "I wouldn't want to inflict your poor choice of clothing on anyone, it might hurt their eyes. As long as you stay within my quarters, no one will have to see such a hideous sight. I have enough shields around my rooms that I could wage a full scale war in here, and no one would ever know. No sound or magic can pass these walls, unless I explicitly allow it."

"Impressive." A new thought occurred to him: Mindspeech was a type of magic. Was her shield the reason he couldn't reach Darvin? "While I don't know how much hot air is in that statement, I must admit that your shield seems to be blocking me."

Not being able to contact Darvin was like missing a limb; Darvin was as much a part of him as an arm or a leg, even if a limb could not usually talk back to him. He was also worried about his Companion, not knowing how his friend had fared from the ambush. Not too well of course, or else Darvin would have tried again to get him free. But he also knew Darvin hadn't died; their connection, though obstructed, still told him that much. If her shield was blocking that connection, perhaps she would be willing to remove it. No, that sounded like it would threaten their security here. He really didn't want the Sunpriests – the _other_ Sunpriests – what a thought! – to find him. But maybe she could alter the shield, do something to let him through? As annoying as Darvin could be, he _missed_ the Companion, because Darvin was really his friend. Closer than a friend, he was like a brother, one privy even to his thoughts. He hadn't been able to reach his partner since he had been captured two days ago. He hoped Lillian would let him contact Darvin. He didn't see why she wouldn't, if she really was trying to help him.

He pushed that thought away. If she wasn't trying to help him, there was absolutely nothing he could do; he could hardly forget that he was wounded and trapped, not only in Karse, but in the _Sun Temple_, in _Sunhame_, the capital of Karse, where the majority of the Sunpriests lived. In his current condition he could barely sit up. There was simply no way he could survive without help. If she didn't help him, he would die. Certainly in a painful fashion, and most likely in a slow one as well. Even if the Sunpriests didn't get their hands on him again. _Stop that,_ he chided himself._ Stop worrying about things you can't do anything about. If Darvin could hear me now, he would certainly give me an earful,_ Malachi thought ruefully.

Unaware of his internal conflict, the priestess responded to his last comment. "Blocking you? How am I blocking you?" she asked in genuine confusion.

Mentally shaking himself, Malachi answered, "I cannot reach my – my 'Hell-Horse.'" He smiled as he said this, because he knew how much Darvin disliked the titles given to them by the Karsites.

"I blocked your connection to your Companion?" she asked. His shock must have been apparent on his face, because she continued. "What? Did you think that just because we call you 'Hell-Horses' and 'White Demons' that we didn't know your real titles? I suppose most of the general population wouldn't know, because the real titles are never used, but I assure you, many in the priesthood know. They might not admit it, but they know. Or at least they should, if they haven't started believing their own lies."

"I guess I never really thought about it much," Malachi admitted. "I just knew the names your people called us, Demonspawn and the like. No one I know has heard anyone in Karse call us by our proper titles."

"The nerve of you to lump us all in together, not even taking the time to get to know us!" she said in mock indignation.

"Well it's not as if I was ever given the _chance_ to get to know your people," Malachi retorted. "Just think, I came to visit and they tried to kill me!"

They glared at each other in silence. The Sunpriestess broke first. She cracked a smile, and they burst out laughing. A sharp burst of pain forced Malachi to stop immediately, but the pain didn't subside this time, it got worse. Much worse. He fought to breathe as his chest burned with agony. It felt like he was trying to breathe with someone – several someones – sitting on his chest; it was a struggle to draw breath. Through his pain he heard the brush of clothing and suddenly Lillian was kneeling beside him. He didn't flinch away from her this time – it hurt too much to move. A new throbbing rose in his chest, and despite the pain he doubled over in a fit of coughing. When the coughing finally subsided, he took his hand away from his face, and stared in blank confusion at the red color he saw.

The priestess saw it too. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, _damn_," she swore, put more feeling into each curse. She put one hand on his back and the other on his shoulder. She paled. "Lay down," she ordered.

"Why?" he asked weakly – it hurt to talk. "What is– ah – happening?" It hurt just to breathe.

Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she tried to gently push him back down. He resisted her push simply because it hurt to move. "Stop fighting! You have a punctured lung."

"What?" The pain was making it hard to concentrate. He couldn't seem to get his eyes to focus as the room spun around him. There were two women in black robes bending over him. They were spinning too. It hurt to breathe. Maybe he should just lie down.

"Not on your back! I will not have you drowning in your own blood!" That didn't sound good. He let her roll him onto his side. He was coughing again, very weakly, and he could feel something dripping out of the side of his mouth. The Sunpriestess swore again, this time more colorfully. Maybe it was just the pounding in his head, but he didn't think most of what she said was even possible. "Your broken ribs punctured your lung. This is bad, very bad. Damn.'' She swore again; this time it was something about priests.

Part of his mind was still functioning more-or-less coherently through the fire in his chest. He didn't like fire. He couldn't seem to remember why. "Can – you – help?" he asked, struggling to make the words come out, struggling to breathe, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Those words seemed to have drained the last of his energy. He was tired. It hurt to breathe. Why did it hurt to breathe? He thought it was important, but couldn't recollect the reason. He was just so tired.

"I'm going to have to try. Your managed to do enough damage to your body to occupy a half a dozen Healer-Priests, not including your lung. That is a project all by itself." He wanted to tell her it hadn't been his fault, but he couldn't remember what had happened anymore. He couldn't think clearly. How had he gotten injured? "Since it is incredibly unlikely that any of the other priests would be willing to help, though, I'm going to need to do this alone. Which will complicate matters somewhat." Priests were a bad idea. Why were they bad? He couldn't recall. Weren't priests supposed to be good? Why wouldn't they help her? He should know, but he didn't, the pain making it too difficult even to think. He was so tired. Maybe she would let him sleep. She moved her hand from his shoulder down to his chest. "This is going to hurt."

Hurt. That didn't begin to describe what he felt. When she moved her hand it felt as if his world exploded in agony. The pain before was _nothing_ like this. He had thought he had hurt before. He had been wrong. This was worse, much worse. The pain seemed to have increased past all imagination. He could barely see, could barely stand to keep his eyes open. She shifted her hand again, and this time, mercifully, he blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

Malachi woke again on a pallet in a room. There was a brief moment of disorientation, but his mind soon cleared away the fog of sleep. Relief and confusion at his present state coursed through him. He could scarcely believe the situation he found himself in. Not only did he remember the room he was in, he remembered the priestess who had brought him there. He looked around. The enigmatic woman was nowhere in sight.

There was, however, a small, low table in the room with him now. Close enough to his pallet and low enough that he could see a tray with food on the table's surface. Close enough and low enough that he thought he might be able to reach the tray if he sat up. Remembering the pain of the injuries that plagued him the last time he was in this room, Malachi proceeded with caution. He found he could sit up with ease, there was no pain. None. That was distinctly odd. Broken ribs took a long time to heal completely. How long had he been unconscious? It could not have been _nearly_ long enough.

He sighed. It was yet another question he wanted to ask the Sunpriestess when she returned. It wasn't one of high priority though; he still didn't know how she had gotten him out of the Cleansing Fire uninjured. Or how she had learned to do it. Or why she had done it. Her answer to that had been vague. He wanted a better answer. He sighed again. He wanted a lot of answers and he only hoped she would be forthcoming.

He shook his head. There was plenty of time to worry about that later. In the meantime – he was hungry. Not ravenous, but still hungry. He reached out for the tray and found that he didn't need to strain to grab hold of it. Presumably it had been left for his benefit. He lifted the tray and pulled in onto his lap. On the tray was a selection of food that would not be harmed by being left unattended nor spoil quickly. Since he doubted the priestess would leave such a tray within his reach if it was not intended for him, he had no qualms about eating the offering. Flat herb-bread, sausage, and some fruit, both dried and fresh. It might not have been a feast, but it certainly tasted wonderful.

Finishing his meal and returning the tray to the table, Malachi examined the room he was in. He had already noted the lack of windows and the strange lights, but something felt different. Besides the low table. The walls were a pale yellow; the rug was a speckled gray. Now that he thought about it, the room had the look of a storeroom, or a semi-large closet. Not someplace originally intended as a bedroom, but certainly convenient if you wanted to hide someone. Very convenient indeed.

Nothing appeared different from the last (and first) time he had seen it. So why did he feel like something had changed? Then it hit him, and he suddenly realized the shield was gone. Well, not _gone,_ completely, but no longer blocking him, like a door to which he now held the key. Slipping easily around it, he reached out to his Companion. For the first time in too long he could feel Darvin.

_:Chosen!: _came the frantic call. _: Finally! I haven't been able to reach you in eight days! I was worried sick about you! I couldn't get to you, or through to you, and I was nearly at my wit's end! Are you all right?:_

Eight days? The day of the ambush, one day in captivity, the day of the fire – that left five days. She had managed to heal him so thoroughly in only five days? Wow. That sort of thing must have taken an awful lot of power. He vaguely recalled her saying he had sustained enough damage to occupy six Healer-Priests. And she had handled it alone. In less than a week. No wonder she had a Black Robe. It was a good thing she was on his side. Or at least was willing to help him. Him, a Herald of Valdemar, one of the hated and terrible Demonspawn. _Dear gods, this is confusing! _He really needed answers.

_:It's all right, Darvin. I'm fine.:_ Amazing, really, given the circumstances. No wonder Darvin had been frantic. By all rights he should be dead.

_:Fine? You've been a prisoner of the Sunpriests for a week! Sunpriests are not known for their hospitality, Kai. I've spent every minute in the past week worrying, fearing that each one might be the last, that I would feel you die and follow. Wanting to go bring back aid, but afraid that if I left you might need me. Trying to find a way into that accursed Temple to come find you without getting caught. And all you can say is that you are "fine." Does that mean "fine, I'm still alive, they haven't killed me yet" or "fine, I've escaped and I'm in no danger"?:_

Malachi was startled by the worry and anger in Darvin's voice. But had he not just noted how amazing his situation was? The Companion had every right to be worried. Sunpriests _weren't_ noted for their hospitality; they were notorious for their fires, however, especially where Heralds were concerned. He knew that from firsthand experience. He should have died five days ago. He hadn't. Now he just needed to explain what had happened to his Companion, when he didn't understand it very well himself.

_:Somewhere in the middle actually. I believe a good translation would be – hmm – something like "fine, I won't be going anywhere for a while, but I'm safe and likely to stay that way" or maybe "fine, by all rights I should probably be dead, but instead I was rescued by a magic-wielding priestess, am currently at her mercy, and don't intend to go anywhere without some really lengthy explanations."_ Wow did that sound strange.

Through their bond he could feel Darvin's surprise. _:Rescued? By a – a Sunpriestess? How? Why?: _Overtones of shock and confusion colored the questions. Emotions Malachi could very easily relate to, because he had felt the same way. He still did in fact.

_:Like I said, I want some really lengthy explanations. I'm still working on those questions. I haven't had much time to chat yet, as I've spent the last few days unconscious and healing. Our one conversation was incredibly short, started badly, and ended worse.:_

_:How badly did it start?: _Darvin asked cautiously.

_:With her Black Robe.:_

Anger and fear filtered down the bond to Malachi. _:She is a _Black Robe_ Sunpriestess? You didn't think that was worth mentioning sooner? The little detail that you are safely in the hands of a demon-summoner?: _Darvin replied caustically. _:What could be worse than being at the mercy of a _Black Robe_?: _he asked, Mind-voice full of scorn._ : How badly did it end?:_

_:With me spending several days unconscious and healing,: _ he replied. Then he realized just how that sounded. _:Wait, no, that doesn't sound right. I mean, that's what happened, I was injured and had collapsed in pain, but – no, it wasn't anything she did –wait, it was – it – : _he sighed mentally. _:This is not coming out right. It is hard to understand. _Before_ I got to her I was injured. She tried to pull a broken rib out of my lung, and I passed out from the pain. _Then_ I spent several days unconscious and healing.:_

He hadn't quite realized the full magnitude of the difficulty in comprehending the strange circumstances he found himself in. His two statements, while both true, if taken separate from his conversation with the Sunpriestess gave a very different view of his situation, one that actually ran counter to the truth – but not expectations. Alone, they fulfilled the Companion's fears, but when taken together with the odd encounter he had had with the woman, the two statements proved to be unrelated. She was a Black Robe Sunpriestess, yes, but she was not responsible for his injuries. She had, in fact _Healed_ his injuries. _:I'm not crazy. The situation might be crazy, but I'm not. She really was trying to help me, for reasons still unknown. If not for her I would have died five days ago.:_

Malachi didn't think Darvin would be able to dispute that fact, though he was pretty sure the Companion would have liked to. The stallion was not willing to trust his Chosen to the care of a Black Robe. With good reason, too. In the normal way of the things a Black Robe should be trying to torture and kill him, not help and heal him. Then again, what about this situation was even remotely normal? He was a Herald at the mercy of a Sunpriest, yes, but this particular Sunpriestess had somehow snuck in to rescue him from _certain _death, then Healed him, and left him with food in relatively comfortable quarters. He might be immensely confused, but those facts did not bode ill for him. He did not think he was dealing with a normal Black Robe Sunpriestess. Nothing here was normal.

He could feel his Companion was nonplussed. _:While I am relieved to find you alive and well, and am grateful you were rescued, I must confess I am baffled that you had such a rescuer. I thought the Black Robes would be more likely to give you to the Fires of Cleansing. Do they know you had help escaping? Are they likely to find you?:_

_:They probably won't find me, especially since they aren't aware that I escaped.: _Malachi replied cautiously. It would be difficult to explain _this_ to Darvin.

_:How do they not know you escaped, Malachi? I would think a Herald would be a pretty high priority prisoner, the sort they would want to watch carefully. Not the sort the Sunpriests would leave unattended. Any escape should have raised an immediate alarm. So what do you mean when you say they _aren't_ looking for you and _don't_ know you escaped?:_ Exasperation was evident in the Companion's tone. Darvin had had a full week to worry about these things.

_:Well,: _Malachi said hesitantly, _:they think I'm dead.: _

_:What happened to make them think _that_?: _asked the Companion harshly. _:How – : _he broke off. Malachi suddenly noticed information was trickling down their bond. He cursed his lapse in proper shielding when he realized _what_ had just made Darvin break off so abruptly. _:The Fires?: _ the Companion practically shrieked. _:When were you going to tell me they had _already_ sent you to the Fires?: _Malachi cringed at this mental assault._ :You could have died! You should have died! How in Havens name did you manage to _not_ die from the Fires? You are in the hands of a Black Robe Sunpriest, you already went to their thrice-damned Fires of Cleansing. Is there anything _else_ I should know about?: _Darvin demanded.

_:Uh, no, I think that pretty much covers it.: _ Malachi replied weakly.

_:Good. Any more surprises like that and I think you would give me a heart-attack. How is it you manage to find yourself in such a situation, Chosen?: _asked his Companion more quietly. _:This was supposed to have been a simple spying mission. In enemy territory, yes, but straightforward. And you managed to get yourself captured a day away from Sunhame. I should have never let you get that close to the city. You could have died _far_ too easily. And I could do nothing to prevent it. My attempt at a rescue only proved you were a Herald. I should never have let you agree to this mission.:_

Malachi could hear the pain in his partner's Mind-voice. Darvin was horrified at how close they had come to being killed. _:Actually, even given my far-too-close-for-comfort call, I think I needed to come.: _Malachi said thoughtfully. _:This priestess, I think she could be important.: _He felt the question lingering in Darvin's mind. _:I'm not really sure. It's just a feeling. But – she is a Black Robe Sunpriestess who rescued a Herald, _knowing_ he was a Herald. She also claims to be rescuing children from the Fires in the same way. Even you have to admit that is unusual. More than unusual – it's unheard of. I want to understand why.: _ He hesitated. _:There is something about her. I don't really know what, but – I think I need to understand; I think she is important, even if I don't know what for.:_

A moment of ponderous silence followed his statement. _:Please be careful, Chosen,:_ Darvin answered finally. _:I do not want to have to worry about you like that again. I really thought you were going to die.: _If Malachi died, the Companion would have died as well, it was the nature of their bond.

_:I think it'll be okay,: _Malachi answered. _:Whatever the reason, the Sunpriestess really is trying to help. She saved me – I still don't know how – but she did. And then she altered her shield so I could get through. I've _missed_ you, even if I've been unconscious half the time. Even when the situation utterly baffles me, you are a solid part of reality, a constant, something that never changes. When I couldn't reach you – it hurt nearly as much as the thought I was dying. We may shield each other out at times, but you've _always_ been there if I needed you, and when I couldn't, when they blocked me, it was nearly unbearable. And being given to the Fires – being absolutely _certain _I was going to die – and not being able to reach you – : _All the pain and fear he had felt trapped in the fire and being utterly helpless came rushing back and emotion overwhelmed his babbling words.

Darvin knew what the Herald was trying to say; he had been alone all week, with plenty of frantic, panic-filled moments to contemplate all the details that only matter when you or someone close to you is going to die. And in this situation it was both; Herald and Companion – rarely did one outlive the other, for backlash nearly always sent the second following their partner within moments.

Heralds do not last long in the hands of the Karsite priesthood. The Sunpriests seemed to derive a great deal of satisfaction out of killing the white-clad northerners. Malachi had been in their hands for eight days now. Had it not been for unforeseeable circumstances, he would have died within three days. Lasting eight days was nearly unheard of – the Sunpriests did not have the restraint to keep their greatest enemy alive that long. If by some small chance he lasted eight days in Karsite captivity, he should have been just barely clinging to life. To be alive _and well_ after eight days was – an unimaginable anomaly. That simply _did not_ happen.

Darvin had spent a eight days alone with this knowledge, staring at his death and the death of his Chosen, and being able to do nothing about any of it. The Companion knew very well what his Herald was trying to say. Wordless love and understanding flooded down their bond, filling Malachi with a calming sense of caring and peace.

_:Where are you?: _he asked the Companion when he managed to deal with the formerly suppressed pain and fear. _:Are you alright?:_

_:I am just outside of Sunhame, and other than being sick with worry over _you_, I have sustained no real damage.: _came the response.

_:So you didn't get into any trouble without me?:_ he said only half-jokingly. The Companion might be able to fend for himself, but spending any length of time near so many Sunpriests could be a recipe for disaster – as he had already learned. _:Spending a week hovering around Sunhame isn't exactly a walk in the park. Someone might notice a white horse hanging around, and start asking questions:_

_:I had no problems with Sunhame,: _Darvin retorted. _:And I can remain out of sight when I choose to. If I had any trouble, it was with the Sun Temple. I was constantly probing for a weak point in the bulwark of shields they have surrounding that place. It looks as if there are more shields around the Temple than there are around the Palace.:_

Malachi considered that statement. _:Well,: _ he decided, _:I suppose that makes sense. Sunpriests are not the most cooperative lot; I don't think they trust each other completely. Not like we do. We have Companions, so all Heralds implicitly trust each other. The Sunpriests deal with demons. They believe they are powerful and supreme. All that ego and arrogance has to clash, and when you mix in cruelty and sadism, I expect fatalities do occur. They have to shield themselves from attacks, we don't. Not from each other.:_

_:True,: _he agreed. _:And then there are the ones like your Black Robe.:_

_:_My_ Black Robe? I would hardly call the Sunpriestess _mine_.:_

_:Humph.: _He could picture the Companion shaking his head._ :You know what I mean.: _Darvin paused, as if daring his Chosen to object. _:As I was saying, your Sunpriestess would have a lot of shields as well, but in her case it would be to hide her activities. Spiriting you out of the Fires would take a great deal of power. And so she would need her own fortress of shielding to mask that sort of power, and to conceal the presence of unaccounted-for people in her rooms. Although if she has that much power, I find it hard to understand why she would be spiriting people out of the Fires in the first place.:_

_:Yeah, well, when she returns I'll work on getting some answers.: _Malachi replied. _:All I really know right now is that she helped me. The why and how are still up in the air. For that matter, so is what the hell happened to make her _want_ to rescue me. I have a lot of questions for her. I'm just as confused as you are when it comes to my situation.:_

_:I will be waiting on your answers, when you get them.:_

_:Don't worry, you will be the first one I tell. I'm not likely to forget. It's not that difficult, considering you are probably the only one I'll be talking with besides the Sunpriestess. You are also my ride home, and if I didn't tell you, you would probably not be overly cooperative about that. Speaking of which, I do not think I will be leaving immediately.: _As much as Malachi wanted to return to Valdemar, he wanted answers from his rescuer. He considered it highly unlikely that she would be able to explain everything in a couple of days. And then there was the matter of his broken bones. He clearly remembered them, especially the broken ribs. Broken bones needed time to heal.

As usual, his equine partner was following the direction of his thoughts. _:How badly were you injured? Other than the broken ribs and your lung?:_

_:Besides those, I had broken three fingers and received various cuts and bruises. Nothing too bad when you consider the company I've been keeping.: _he replied lightly.

_:Agreed: _Darvin concurred. _:Broken ribs are a small price to pay to have survived being captured by the Sunpriests and given to their accursed Fires. And you will certainly not be leaving anytime soon. Since it seems that you are in no danger, I will _not_ have you riding across two countries with broken ribs. One punctured lung is enough, and that one was treated immediately.: _He paused. _:How are you healing by the way?:_

Malachi cautiously moved around a little, experimenting. He felt no pain, only some weakness. He shared his findings with his Companion. _:The weakness is most likely due to my being unconscious, and hence immobile, for nearly a week, but the complete healing? No matter how powerful that priestess is, there is no possible way for broken bones to be so completely Healed in less than a week. I mean, the Healers back in Haven can speed the healing process along, but even they are hesitant to Heal broken bones too quickly.:_

Darvin thought for a moment. _:Indeed. Remember what Warren said?:_

Malachi groaned. The Companion snickered mentally.

Back when he was still in his student Greys, he was asked one of the Healers about bone-healing. The Healers seemed to have a whole lecture memorized for delivery to any Herald who came in with broken limbs and complained about how long they would spend in recovery, and the one he asked had been more than willing to recite it early. "_You cannot hurry bone-healing much; if you try, the bone is liable to develop weak and will be all the more likely to break again that much easier. You Heralds are here often enough; we are not going to do anything that might make you more likely to get damaged. You do that well enough without our help,"_ he remembered Warren telling him irately.

Darvin snickered again. _:The Healers have a whole repertoire of lectures to be delivered to any Herald who enters the House of Healing, don't they?:_

Malachi had to agree. _:The Healers always seem so perturbed when it comes to Healing the Heralds. I can hardly see why. It isn't like we _purposely_ get ourselves injured. We just spend a considerable amount of time in dangerous places and situations.:_

_:Like Karse?: _the Companion asked sardonically.

_:Well, yes. Like Karse. _Someone _ needs to do these things. As a Herald, it is my responsibility. You remember what Theresa told my class during Field Medicine.:_

"_If you aren't out there doing recklessly dangerous things and getting injured, you Heralds are here, either asking us to Heal you so you can get back out there or complaining when you need to actually spend some time recovering_. _Sometimes both. Honestly, it is a good thing you need to learn basic field medicine, or we would never get you Heralds out of here,"_ Theresa had said to the class. The Healer may have _sounded_ exasperated, but she had smiled (slightly) as she said it.

Darvin snickered again. _:She had a point. Heralds do tend to do recklessly dangerous things. And I don't suppose you know _anything _ about that, do you? Like almost getting yourself _killed _ by Karsite Sunpriests, perhaps?:_ he continued sarcastically.

Malachi chose not to respond to his partner's inquiry. He had always had a decent relationship with the Healers, probably because he hadn't done anything – overtly – dangerous as a Trainee.

_:It doesn't hurt that Rebecca is a Healer.:_ the Companion accurately put in. His sister Rebecca had the Healing Gift, and she had received her Greens shortly after he received his Whites.

Malachi's line of thinking gradually returned to wanting to know what the priestess had done for his Healing. He was curious to know _how_ she had Healed him, and what she did with his broken bones. Surely she knew her work, so he doubted she had done anything improperly, but he still wanted to know how she had accomplished what the greatest of Haven's Healers had advised against. He restrained a sigh. He has so many questions!

_:And we both want the answers,: _the stallion told him firmly. _:I expect you to keep me apprised of everything that is happening, and I mean _everything_. No more of this "by the way" business. I do not like being here, especially separated from you, and you not telling me what is going on is _not_ helpful. And I swear, Malachi, if you pull another stunt like the "oh, by the way, I was rescued by a Black Robe Sunpriestess after being sent to the Fires, just thought you should know, sorry I didn't think to mention it sooner" I will _kick_ you back across the border.: _

Malachi heard the promise in Darvin's Mindvoice, and the remnants of the earlier fear. The Companion did _not_ want him to come that close to dying again. Well, neither did he. He hadn't particularly enjoyed his last trip through the Fires, regardless of the fact that he was not harmed. He didn't know how Lillian had saved him, and he didn't care to have a repeat performance. People only went through the flames once, and normally they didn't need to worry about a second trip because they didn't survive the first one. He survived, due to abnormal circumstances, and would prefer not to be the first person to go through the Fires twice. Once was more than enough. He was the only living Herald to have the distinction of having gone through the Fires and the first Herald to be given to the flames in nearly two decades; no one else had been foolish enough to be captured by the Karsites or, if they were, to be captured alive.

_:Are you sure you will be all right, Chosen?: _Darvin asked seriously. _:Are you absolutely certain you are safe there? That the other Sunpriests will not find you?:_

_:I think I should be okay,: _Malachi answered thoughtfully. _:I do not believe this Sunpriestess means me any harm, and I don't think anything would be able to get past her to get at me either. I suspect I am as safe as I can get without actually crossing the border. Unless Karse suddenly declares war on itself, I should be fine. And a war can't get past my rescuer's shields, or so she claims. Given what I've seen of her power, I don't think anything short of all of the Sunpriests jointly battering down the walls could get through. So I think I'll be fine, Darvin. No worries.:_

_:No worries,: _Darvin grumbled. _:Yeah, right. My Chosen is in the hands of Karsite Sunpriests and he tells me "no worries." Oh, what is this world coming?: _the Companion mourned dramatically. :_And what does it mean when I actually believe that?: _

Malachi laughed. _:It means we are both live in a crazy world, my friend. Is there any other kind? And it is only one Sunpriestess. One who has already saved my life.: _He paused for a moment, then added,_ :Twice, actually – I think the Healing counts. I'll be all right Darvin. _Really. _The only worry I face at the moment is a headache from confusion. I do not believe I am in any danger of bodily injury.:_ He continued before the Companion could object to his choice of wording. _:Nor do I face any other type of harm you can think of. So relax.:_

_:I can think of a lot of ways to inflict damage, Chosen.: _Darvin replied darkly._ :Many of them are not physical, nor do they leave any indication at all that they have been done.:_

Malachi shook his head. It was a pity the Companion could see him; Malachi dearly wanted to roll his eyes, and while he could, the effect would be lost if Darvin wasn't there to see it. _:You are unbelievable,:_ he said in exasperation. _:She saved me and now she is hiding me. She is trying to _help_ me.: _He kept a tight shield around the inescapable addition to his statement: _I think._ No. He _knew_ she was sincere in trying to help him. He might not know her motives, her reasons for breaking with everything she had been raised to believe, but she _was_ sincere and she _did_ want to help. _:I will be _fine_, Darvin.:_

_:I know,: _the Companion replied wearily. _:It's just – I worry about you. Especially when I can do nothing to help you.:_

_:My friend, I am perfectly capable to taking care of myself,: _ Malachi Mindspoke with a smile. _:And I am just as liking to get into trouble _with_ you as without you. I will be fine, so please stop worrying. I will not be going anywhere for a while. I'm as safe as houses.:_

_:Houses aren't safe in Karse.:_

_:Houses _would_ be safe if it weren't for the Sunpriests,:_ Malachi countered. _:I do not have to worry about the Sunpriests, therefore houses are safe.:_

_:You may not need to watch for all the Sunpriests, but be careful around your Black Robe,: _Darvin cautioned him. _:If she has as much power as you say she does, she could easily be hiding something from you. She claims to be able to hide her doings from the others, and _that_ takes an awful lot of power. If she can do that, she could hide things from you with no difficulty. I can barely contemplate the strength of her power. She could squash you like an insect, certainly, and in all probability, it is likely she can do the same to me, without overly much trouble.: _That startled Malachi, and considerably frightened him. He knew Companions were mortal, but they were _strong_. What kind of power would it take to swat one like a fly? More than he cared to think about, certainly.

_:I will be careful,:_ he promised his Companion, meaning every word.

_:Please make sure you do, Chosen.: _Darvin implored.

_:I will. I promise.:_

Darvin snorted. _:Like you promised to be careful on this mission?: _He snorted again. Then he asked, _:So what will you do while you wait?:_

Malachi blinked.

_:What? Did you plan on sitting there forever? Find out what her rooms look like! You are going to be there for a couple of weeks, if all goes well. Do you plan on sitting there in that little room for all that time? Or have you not thought that far ahead yet? You are in with there with the Sunpriests, Kai, you need to stay on your toes. Well? Go look around!: _the stallion admonished.

Malachi obeyed his partner and got up. Getting up, he was struck by the realization that he was no longer wearing his Whites. He was only wearing small-clothes, and they were not his. He flushed suddenly when he realized the priestess must have undressed him.

_:A torn and dirty uniform would only get in the way of a Healer, you know.:_ Darvin reminded him.

_:I know that,: _ he responded. And he did. She had been acting as a Healer, and he normally wasn't body-shy around Healers. _:It's just – she is a Sunpriestess.:_ He still was not quite comfortable with that thought. On the table was clothing of a muted brown color. It was rather fine cloth, actually, and certainly better than wandering around in small clothes. He dressed quickly. As for what he should do now – well, for starters, it was rather important that he locate a water closet. That decided, he headed toward the only door in the room.

As he reached out to open the door, he stopped. He might be inundated by questions, but he would not let that cause him to drop his guard. _:Good,: _Darvin told him. _:Keep sharp.: _He tentatively reached out with his Gift, searching the adjoining room. No one was there. He checked the entire surrounding area, to the boundaries of a powerful shield, and still nothing. The shield _felt_ like the Sunpriestess, and he guessed it must mark the edge of her quarters. That being so, his Mindspeech sweep assured him he was the only person in her rooms. He exhaled in relief – he hardly wanted to run into anyone else here in the heart in Sunhame. Actually, come to think of it, he did not believe he was likely to encounter anyone while in the Priestess's quarters. The only people (besides Lillian herself) who would enter the rooms without an express invitation would be servants. And since the Sunpriests were said to work magic – which he knew firsthand was true – it was unlikely servants would enter freely either.

The door to "his" room opened inward to reveal – a wall? He reached out – no, it was cloth. Malachi pushed the cloth aside and stepped out into a bedroom. "His" door was concealed behind a tapestry depicting the sun-in-glory in glorious color and detail. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how much it was worth. The entire room was carpeted with a rich, golden-brown color, accenting the pale yellow walls. The bed was arranged along the wall, under a window. The bedclothes were done in oranges and yellows. He smiled. The colors were certainly befitting a _Sun_priestess_. _

_:Why not red?: _ his Companion asked.

_:How am I supposed to know?:_

Beside the bed was a small round nightstand with a drawer and a shelf. A candlestick and a book were atop the table. A pair of bookcases graced the opposite wall. Malachi was not all that surprised to note the bookcases were rather full. It wasn't just books, though. He saw an odd assortment of items sharing the bookcases, including jars, vases, and other miscellaneous things. A fireplace was embedded in the wall, closed off by a metal fire screen. A desk faced him across the room, and he saw a wardrobe tucked in the corner. Between the two was another fabulous tapestry, this one detailing a sunrise – sunset? – reflecting off the snow. It was just as fine as the first, although there was nothing but wall behind this one. There were two other doors leading from the bedroom.

When he investigated the alcove off to the side of the room, he found what could only be a shrine. _:That makes sense,: _he commented to Darvin. _:My "hostess" is a Sunpriestess, after all. It is appropriate that she has a shrine to Vkandis in her bedroom.:_

_:I doubt most Sunpriests do.: _

_:I know, but this priestess seems more –: _he couldn't find words to describe the nebulous feeling, he just knew she was _more :– than most in the priesthood.:_

The shrine included two pots of flowering plants, one white, one red, neither of which he recognized. The alcove also contained a third tapestry, hung against the far wall. He could not say for certain what was depicted by the threads, but it was far more beautiful than the first two, and likely was correspondingly more expensive. The image held in the cloth was powerful and inspirational, and filled his heart with emotions so strong he could feel his eyes tearing. It was obvious why she hung this tapestry in her shrine. Behind this tapestry he found another door.

He opened this one and blinked at the darkness. Unlike his room and the bedroom, this room had none of the balls of light along the walls. This room also had no windows, but light filtered in through the open door behind him, providing enough light for him to see. This room lacked the tapestries and lavish carpeting of the bedroom. It also lacked furniture. There was only a low, round table pushed up against the wall, shelves, and some cushions. The shelves were covered with jars and bowls, spoons, sticks, and cups, and yet more books. There was some element to the air in here, it made his skin tingle. The hair on his arms rose and he got that pins-and-needles feeling like if he sat in an odd position for too long. :_If I had to guess, I'd say this was the Sunpriestess's workroom.: _These books and assorted paraphernalia were probably magical in nature. Malachi quickly backed out of the room. He was apprehensive about the magic of the Sunpriests.

_:For good reason,: _Darvin agreed. _:Their abilities are not the same as the Heraldic Gifts. And they don't usually use their abilities to help anyone except themselves.:_

Beyond one of the other doors in the bedroom Malachi found what he was looking for. The bathing room was almost as big as the bedroom, done entirely in tile and white marble. The water closet, he found, was as good as they came. The tub was set into the floor and seemed fully large enough to fit four comfortably. _:Though I doubt four people sharing a tub would be very comfortable,:_ he added.

The chamber also held a curiosity. While the room appeared mostly rectangular, there was actually a sort of alcove, breaking from the rectangle. It encompassed an area slightly smaller than the tub. Three walls enclosed a mostly square space. The fourth side, leading into the rest of the chamber, was not completely open. The floor was raised at the border, but the floor inside was level with the rest of the room. A metal bar near the ceiling ran parallel to the raised edge. Hanging from the bar was a curtain made from heavy canvas. The material had been treated to resist water. The back wall held two knobs. Four spigots were attached to the ceiling and the three walls. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.

_:Oh!: _Darvin exclaimed. _:I think that might be one of those things the Archivists were discussing back in Haven. The spigots are supposed to shower you with water, similar to rain. It is supposed to be an alternative to bathing in a tub, but no one seems much interested in changing. I suspect this is the only one of those things you're likely to see for a long time. The idea doesn't seem to be catching on.: _

The bathing room had a second door, which led out into what could only be a sitting room. A goodly number of matching cushioned chairs were arranged in a semicircle around a long, oval table. One of the walls held a fireplace, encircled by a metal fire screen. _Another fireplace?_ He peeked in the nearest door and his supposition was confirmed. The fireplace was the same one he noted earlier, it opened into both the sitting room and the bedroom. There was another door, as well as an open doorway. He started for the door and stopped. He could feel shield surrounding the priestess's rooms, and it stopped at that wall. Malachi did not particularly want to venture out into the rest of the temple, so he turned away from the door to the outside.

The doorway led him to a small dining room, complete with a wooden table and matching chairs. The design in the wood was simple, yet elegant. It was a very nice table, but Malachi just hoped the Sunpriestess did not entertain guests often. _:She probably doesn't,:_ Darvin commented. _:If she routinely hides escapees from the Fires in her closet, I doubt she would be likely to frequently invite dinner guests who might notice something odd.:_

On a lighter note, the dining room was a reason for the priestess to take meals in her rooms. He was not entirely sure whether that was common practice or not. Sunpriests were a law unto themselves. Regardless, if she ate in her rooms, it would be a simple matter for her to feed the illicit guests temporarily residing in her hidden closet. Since he was currently one of those illicit guests, he considered such a plan to be very good indeed.

_:All in all, your Sunpriestess has a very nice setup here.: _the Companion informed him.

Malachi couldn't help but agree. The rooms were both luxurious and spacious, but still very far from extravagant, which was more than he could say for the stereotypical lifestyle of the Sunpriests. She also seemed to have all the necessary preparations for "guests" to stay with her: a hidden bedroom; a private bathing room; every reason for food to be delivered to her chambers. And, because she was not only a Sunpriestess, but a _Black-robe_, her suite would be out-of-bounds for everyone except invited visitors and servants, none of whom being allowed the freedom to nose around her stuff. Anyone the Sunpriestess tried to hide in her rooms would be able to live hidden and comfortable for as long as was necessary.

A strange, low noise began to reverberate within the room. Malachi whirled around, but could not find when the sound emanated from.

_:What is that?: _he asked.

_:I don't know,:_ Darvin replied. _:Although, it seems familiar, almost like – :_

_:Footsteps.: _


	4. Chapter 4

Malachi swallowed hard. They were getting louder. _:It sounds like footsteps. But why am I hearing them _here? _Where are they coming from?:_

Darvin had no answer for him.

The sound of footsteps kept growing in volume. Then they abruptly stopped. Malachi strained his ears, trying to determine what was happening. He heard something –

His eyes widened in recognition and he crouched down beside a cabinet. He didn't make a sound as the door to the priestess's suite opened. Ever so carefully he reached out a mental probe, trying to detect the identity of the intruder. It touched and – he relaxed.

Malachi stood up and walked to the doorway. "Care to explain what all that was about?" he asked, leaning casually against the wall.

He was pleased to see he had startled her. She had certainly tossed enough shocks at _him!_ He was not surprised, however, to see the speed at which she recovered her composure.

"I suppose you are referring to my proximity detector?" the Black Robe Sunpriestess replied. "I like to have warning before someone comes to my door. So I have it set up that sounds in the hallway within a certain distance to my rooms can be heard by those inside who are keyed to the spell."

"What do you mean by keyed to the spell?" he responded, trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice. What other magics had she worked on him while he was unconscious?

"It means the spell recognizes you. I would prefer ordinary visitors and servants not be made aware of the multitude of spells layering my rooms. Especially when most of the spells are tricky, subtle things that would advertise the strength and control of my powers."

"So, I am not an 'ordinary visitor'?" he asked straight-faced.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Hardly. Ordinary visitors tend to enter through the door. They also typically don't sleep in my closet." She paused. "I would also have to add that ordinary visitors usually don't have the entire priesthood trying to kill them."

"Well," he sighed dramatically, "I wasn't given much choice in the matter for either the door or the closet. And I would have avoided that whole deal with the Sunpriests if I could have. Of course, if I had managed to avoid the Sunpriests, I would not have needed to worry about your door and closet, because then I would have been able to maintain a proper distance from them both." It was difficult not to smile.

"Should I thank them then? For enabling such a distinguished guest to grace my presence?"

"I generally consider it bad manners to thank people for trying to kill me. Although, I do suppose, had it not been for that, I would never have had the opportunity to have made your acquaintance otherwise. So in a way, I admit, they may have done me a service."

_:Oh for goodness sake, Malachi, stop flirting with the Black Robe Sunpriestess already!: _

He burst out laughing.

Her eyes were twinkling. "Might I ask what is so funny?"

Malachi tried to catch his breathe. "My Companion – he said – he told me – to stop – stop _flirting_ – with a _Black Robe – _Sunpriestess. It was just – just too much." He shook his head and kept laughing.

Her eyes widened. Then she started laughing too. "Oh – oh my. A Companion – telling his Herald – to stop flirting – with a Black Robe. Instead of – saying run – or fight. That's just – wow." She couldn't stop laughing either.

_:Oh, get a hold of yourself! It wasn't _that _funny.:_

That set him off again. _:Yes, it was.: _He needed to lean on the wall for support; the priestess was holding onto a chair. They just kept laughing.

_:Alright. I suppose it was a fair bit amusing. But only because it is so absurd; she had a point. "Run" or "fight" would seem to make to sense. "Stop flirting" is just so out of place for a Herald and a Black Robe that it is funny.:_

_:So glad you agree, Darvin.: _He was laughing again, which set _her_ off too.By the time they finally settled his sides were sore.

"Oh my," she said, catching her breath, "I haven't laughed like that in a very long time."

"Neither have I," Malachi replied. "My sides hurt from laughing so much." A thought occurred to him. "Speaking of which, what did you do with my ribs? They don't hurt at all. It's amazing."

"I splinted them," she said with a little smile as his eyes widened. "With magic." His eyes must have been as big as saucers. "I needed to pour a lot of magic into you in order for you to heal." Her eyes darkened. "You were in pretty bad shape."

"Thank you," he told her solemnly. "I would be dead twice-over were it not for you."

_:Give her my thanks as well.: _

Malachi relayed the message. "My Companion Darvin also thanks you for your aid."

The priestess blinked in surprise. Then she smiled faintly. "This is all a bit stranger than I am used to." She shook her head. "I don't think a Black Robe has ever been thanked by a Companion before."

He grinned. "I suspect you're probably right. But then I also don't think a Herald has ever survived the Fires of Cleansing before, especially having been saved by a Black Robe. How _did _ you manage to do that by the way? Darvin asked me, and I couldn't answer him because I didn't know myself."

"At least I know I modified the shields properly, since you seem to have no problem contacting your Companion." She smiled, then continued. "As for how I saved you – it is a bit complicated. Why don't you have a seat while I try to explain," she replied, sitting down in one of the sitting room chairs.

He took another chair, not next to hers, but not across the room either. They may have just been joking together, but now they were returning to serious matters. "I know you said you used magic, but I don't understand how that would have worked. We don't have any Gifts – or even combinations of Gifts – that could have done that. One of the Herald-Mages of legend, maybe, but Vanyel was the last of them, and he died nearly two hundred years ago."

"For all that magic is supposedly anathema is Karse, an extraordinary number of Sunpriests could be considered mages." She spoke slowly, as though choosing her words with care. "Our abilities are no more 'gifts of Vkandis's grace' than yours are. We may have different abilities, but not _that_ different. Had Vanyel 'Demonrider' been born in Karse, he probably would have ended up in the priesthood. The only ones who actually have dealings with demons are the Sunpriests. And I personally know that to be true." The words chilled him. She was a demon-summoner. To know that she was one because of her Robe was one thing, to hear her say it was another completely.

"For all that I am the youngest to wear a Black Robe, I am one of the strongest in the priesthood. If I wasn't – I don't think I would have been able to manage as I do." She paused, trying to find words. "I think of it as a web, but it's really more like a tapestry. I weave multiple functions together into a big working and release it as one. It took me such a long time to get it all to work correctly. I spent _years _ planning it, long before I was fully trained, even before I had my full abilities. I practiced it whenever I could, working up to where it is now. I started with shielding." She smiled grimly. "I was ten. I think I have the tightest shields in Karse. I have to; those shields are my life. Once I trusted my shields to hide all other traces of magic, I began to weave. I started working with candles and bits of paper, trying to keep the paper from burning, then trying to imitate the quality of the flames.

"Part of what I do is illusion; nearly all the flames are either illusionary or under my control. There is also the illusion of burning, so real it extends to all the senses. That was hard; I practiced with mice. A lot of the early ones didn't make it. Once I got that working, I started adding in other bits, as I thought of them and as I obtained the ability to perform them. I spent all my time studying back then. I still do actually. As soon as I could read proficiently, all my spare time was spent in the library, trying to learn everything I could, even before it was known how strong I would be. My Gifts didn't manifest as fast as I would have liked, even if they did come fairly early, and then they took _so long_ to train. There were so many times I didn't think it would work, that I wouldn't have the power, or the control, or that what I wanted to do simply wasn't possible." She closed her eyes and was silent for a time. "Then they would have another Cleansing, and I would try that much harder."

"How old were you?" he asked quietly when it became apparent she wasn't going to continue. The silence was startling after her flood of words; it was almost as if she was babbling.

She pressed a hand to her temple. "Eight, I think when I got the idea. It was months after the first Cleansing that I thought of it. Or rather, before I thought of something that stood a chance of actually working. The first time I field-tested the web was nearly two years before I received my Red Robes. I was so terrified it wouldn't work, that I'd be caught, that someone would notice _something_ was wrong. I was surprised no one saw how scared I was. There I was, seventeen, and trying to do something so complex, something that accomplished Sunpriests who had their Robes longer than I'd been alive would balk at. But no one noticed. Marcie turned up in my room confused, but unharmed. I bribed a merchant to take her to the border. And I had hope. I saw a future where I didn't have to become a monster or else be killed by them. For the first time in a decade, despair lost its foothold in my heart."

Malachi sat in silence, trying to process her story. It was truly an extraordinary tale. He wasn't sure he wanted to know just how powerful she was. To be able to do something as complicated as her – web – was, to be able to _hide_ it from the fearsome Sunpriests – at_ seventeen? _At seventeen he had been a year away from getting his Whites and still not well-trained in the use of his Gifts. _It is a very good thing she is one of the strongest Sunpriests; many more with that kind of power and Valdemar wouldn't stand a chance! Heraldic Gifts don't lend themselves to _quite_ such complex endeavors. Certainly nothing of that complexity _and _magnitude! _

Of course, Heralds were Chosen at an older age than children entered the Cloister in Karse. Heralds also didn't spend as long a period in schooling, and their Gifts were not strongly focused on. A person needed to have a Gift for a Companion to Choose them to become a Herald, but many had weak Gifts, and some Heralds had barely more ability than the unGifted. No one understood why Companions Chose as they did.

He had a strong feeling that if this priestess had been born in Valdemar, she would have been Chosen. Her dedication to her work, her concern for others, the raw pain in her voice when she mentioned the Cleansings – all were traits that spoke of a strong character, a good heart, and a strength of spirit. She was an anomaly in Karse, almost as much as he was, except his presence in Karse was merely transitory. She was a rose that had taken root in a field of weeds and against all odds had flourished; a scarlet jay among crows, who draped her bright feathers in black to protect those the crows would mob.

He was amazed she had been determined enough at eight to conceive an idea and spend the next nine years trying to carry it to fruition. Most children outgrew such ideas, or eventually gave up on them. Especially in an environment like the one cultivated by the Karsite priesthood. She had been taken from her family when she was eight and brought into the harsh atmosphere of the Children's Cloister. And then proceeded to resist the yoke of indoctrination that most people merely bent their heads to accept. She had resisted so long she managed to grow up, still fighting. He could hardly believe she had survived as long as she evidently had – the Sunpriests killed people for far less than she had done.

"I have a question – actually I have a lot of questions – but, why did you have to wait two years before you received your Red Robes? I would think that if you could do something like your web, you would have been eligible for that rank then." He had so very many questions for her.

"I probably could have gotten the Red Robes at seventeen. But I didn't want to. Attaining such a high rank at such a young age would advertise how powerful I am, and then I would have had far more attention than I wanted. When you're doing things that could get you killed if anyone knew about them, a lot of attention is never a good thing." She gave a humorless smile. "So I hid my power. I fumbled higher level workings, struggled with them, pretended I wasn't so far ahead in my studies. And when I finally was given Red Robes, I had even more reason to not show my power. I knew by then that I had the ability to wear the Black Robe, and I wanted to delay the coming of the day I would. I did not do as well as I might have liked, it was only four years later that I became a Black Robe. I am the youngest priestess to ever wear a Black Robe, and then, few priestesses ever reach that rank. And priests very rarely receive Black Robes so young. So much for not drawing attention, right? I don't think the privileges and authority are worth the summonings. I don't think anything is." Her voice cracked.

"How long have you worn the Black Robes?" he inquired hesitantly.

"Just over a year. Since last Midsummer."

Midsummer. She was granted her Black Robes at Midsummer. Only the strongest, most powerful priests (usually the ones with powerful connections) took vows or were given rank on that holy day. The longest day of the year was given special consideration in a kingdom that worshiped the _Sun_lord. And if she had received the Black Robes only a years ago – he did the math – she was just twenty-four years old. She was a year younger than him! She had spent the past sixteen years hiding herself from those who surrounded her, had spent two-thirds of her life in a hostile environment where the wrong word would get her killed. He doubted she had ever spoken about this to anyone. She had isolated herself out of necessity.

She was _alone._ She had no one else.

No wonder she was rambling a bit, no wonder her nerves were cracking. He could scarcely imagine the strain she had lived under. She had lived the last two-thirds of her life behind a mask, from behind walls that would put a fortress to shame. He wouldn't want to play cards with her, because he didn't doubt she had an inscrutable poker face. She must have; she'd worn it every day for more than a decade, in a dangerous game where the stakes were her life. But here, now, the mask was off, the walls were lowered, and she was opening up to someone for the first time since she had been brought into the Children's Cloister after being wrenched from her family. By the very fact virtue of what he was, what almost gotten him killed, she could talk to him. He was a Herald, an extreme persona non grata in Karse; who could he possibly tell all this to? This was all so much to take in.

"How have you managed to _survive_ all this time?" How could no one have noticed what she was doing? Or considered her a threat?

Again the grim smile. "Mainly because I spend all my time studying. I don't put myself forward, ever. I don't _like_ the so-called privileges of rank. I show no interest in politics, no interest in the nobility, no interest in _anything_ outside of scholarly pursuits and prayer. I _believe_ in Vkandis. I spend a great deal of time in prayer and meditation. Sunpriests who show great power and a penchant for independent thought tend to meet with unfortunate accidents, or sometimes they are said to fall victim to the White Demons. I have little doubt they _did_ fall victim to demons, but I think it more likely the demons were of the night-walking variety. I certainly had great power, so I took care not to demonstrate anything that could be construed as independent thinking." She shrugged unhappily. "I make sure I am not seen as a threat to anyone. I may currently be the youngest Black Robe Sunpriest in Karse, but I rarely use my abilities, I rarely exercise my rank. I have not shown interest in anything besides my studies and religious dedication since I was very young. I was a quiet child. I knew I needed to be."

And she had lived basically her entire life like this? No wonder she was so strong, she didn't have anything else to engage herself in! But – "How did you know? That you needed to be quiet as a child. How could you have planned all this from such a young age?"

A sad, solemn look crept over her. A look that spoke of loss and pain. "I had some advice. One of the other girls at the Cloister. She was just a couple of years older than me, but she knew, she knew so much. She helped a lot of us." He wanted to ask what happened to the other girl, but he was afraid he already knew the answer. The expression on her face indicated there was more to that particular story, but he didn't want to push too hard. Not yet anyway. Perhaps after he got to know her better, then if she was willing he might ask, but not now. He didn't want to hear an unhappy ending at the moment.

It was not such a stretch to presume that tale did not end happily. Few stories involving Sunpriests had happy endings, especially in the recent past. _This _Sunpriestess was probably responsible for most of the few. He hoped her own story would end well, but he doubted she could hide her activities or her beliefs forever. That thought deeply saddened him. He was filled with an urge to protect her, which he knew to be irrational. After all, how could he possibly protect her? The mood in the room was dragging him down with it; it was hard to believe they had been laughing not too long ago. He needed to change the subject, and fast.

"You said earlier that I was keyed to your proximity detector, how does that work exactly? When did I become connected to your spell?"

She took a deep breath and smiled, understanding why he was changing topics so abruptly. "You aren't quite keyed to the proximity detector itself. You are technically keyed to my shields, which the alarm system is part of. That is also part of how you are able to reach your Companion. I needed to make some modifications for you to communicate with him, but it still would not have worked if you were not keyed to the shields. All it really means is that you can pass through the shields I have around my quarters without being stopped. It happened when I transported you through them. The shields recognize that I brought you in with my power, and therefore you have the right to be here." She let out a breath, not quite a sigh. "My shields are just as complicated as everything else I do."

Malachi grinned. "Well since it was something complicated that got me in here alive, complicated certainly works well enough for me."

She answered with a chuckle. "That is true."

He was pleased to see she no longer seemed on the verge of tears. He was not known for an ability to handle emotional women well. And to see a _Black Robe Sunpriestess_ about to cry – it boggled the mind. Although he wasn't sure he would be able to keep thinking of her as "a Black Robe Sunpriestess," not after hearing how she had lived, what she had been through. It was as if she had ripped the scab off of a wound that had never fully healed so he could see it. And the wound was a gaping one. No one should have to live so alone, especially in such a harsh environment.

"I was looking around before you returned, and your quarters are very nice. I noticed they were perfectly set up in such a way that your ah – more _irregular_ guests – would go unnoticed. As an irregular guest myself, I give my full approval," he finished airily.

She laughed. "It is an extremely good arrangement. That's why I chose them. This is one of the nicer suites. It was one of the few times I took advantage of the privileges of my high rank."

"I am very grateful you did. In the meantime though, how long should I expect to stay here?"

She mock-scowled. "So eager to leave already?" Was there an undercurrent of real hurt in her voice? He couldn't tell for certain.

"When I planned my fabulous Karsite holiday, I had not been counting on such a strange series of adventures that even a Bard would blanch to sing about. I mean really, how many people would believe a tale in which an evil Sunpriest rescues the hero? No Bard worth his lute would perform it."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you are the hero, I take it," she responded in a voice so flat he almost could not restrain his laughter.

Instead he gave his best smile. "Of course. The Herald is _always_ the hero."

"Perhaps an extended Karsite holiday would do you well. Some of _our_ tales might be able to deflate your overly inflated opinion of yourself. White Demons are _never _the hero, although they make _excellent_ villains," she replied with a straight face.

He pouted in response, then brightened. "At least we are still excellent."

That got her to chuckle. She smiled and shook her head at him. "You really are hopeless."

"So they tell me," he answered with a grin. "But seriously, I have to let Darvin know when we can expect to leave. I don't want him getting into trouble because he was caught unawares. That's something I've already done exceedingly well."

"That you did," she acknowledged. "So your Companion's name is Darvin?" she asked curiously. He nodded. "Could you relay a message to him for me, please?"

"Sure," he responded. Malachi then turned to his Companion. _:Hey Darvin, you listening?:_

_:Of course I am listening. This conversation is important. Since we are already here and not going anywhere, I wouldn't miss it for the world. I want to hear everything she has to say. You are in her hands, after all.:_

"Please tell Darvin that I, Black Robe Sunpriestess Lillian, swear that I will do everything in my power to ensure both you and he get back to Valdemar without further harm," she stated formally. "I believe broken ribs take about four to six weeks to heal. So you should expect to stay here for at least a month." She gave a wry smile. "Now, how many Valdemarans can spend a month in Karse under the personal protection of a Sunpriestess, hmm? Not many, I would bet."

_:Malachi, let Sunpriestess Lillian know that I am gratified by her assistance and I deeply appreciate everything she is doing for you.:_

"Darvin says thank you," he paraphrased.

_:That is not what I said! But I suppose something is always lost in translation.:_

_:Speaking of which –: _"How would you like to learn Valdemaran?"

"Pardon?" Lillian asked dumbfounded.

"If I am going to be here for a month, I have to do _something_ with all that time. So how would you like me to teach you Valdemaran?"

_:You teaching someone language skills? This I have to see.:_

She was very taken back by his offer, but she accepted it all the same. "I suppose it would be useful to know, and I doubt I'll ever get another chance as good as this one. How often can I expect to have a native speaker my guest for a month? And one never stops learning, after all."

He did have one worry on the subject, though. "Will anyone think it odd if you spend all your time in you rooms for a month? I mean, uh, I don't want to cause you any trouble with the other Sunpriests. Well, any _more_ trouble."

"Oh, it is no trouble at all. Every once in a while I take to studying in my rooms, only coming out for the sun-prayers. No one will think it any odder than usual. I am an eccentric scholar, no one really bothers me much. Those who are of a mind to pester scholarly types tend to be surprised by a young woman in Black Robes perusing the dusty old papers in the back rooms of the Library. Which I do rather often," she added with a smile. "It is amazing what eccentric scholars can get away with. I can hole up in my rooms for several weeks, and people will simply think I found something new to puzzle over. I am good friends with the one whose domain the library is. I am one of the few people he will allow to take the older journals and scrolls out of the library."

"Is the librarian that fearsome?"

"Caydrin?" She chuckled. "He is fearsome all right. You crease so much as a single page in one of the books, and a bespectacled old man with gray hair will appear out of nowhere to rap your knuckles. He will then proceed to sternly lecture you on respecting the receptacles of our noble history and put you to work cleaning the dust from the shelves and putting things in their proper place under his watchful eye until he is satisfied you have learned your lesson. He is one of the older priests in Karse, so most of them have had the opportunity to be subjected to the 'cruel tyrannies of the old bookkeeper.'" She grinned. "No one wants to cross him. "

Her expression turned thoughtful. "I suspect that if I hadn't been so powerful, he would have snatched me up as his assistant and trained me to take his place. But such great power can't be wasted on caring for the archives," she said haughtily before rolling her eyes, "even if I do spend much of my time there anyway. If it becomes necessary for my skills to be put to work elsewhere, I cannot be tied down. So he's training Gerrin as his successor and I am Caydrin's unofficial assistant instead." She inhaled deeply. "If I were the archivist, I wouldn't have as much time for my non-sanctioned activities anyway. And Gerrin really isn't anything more than a scholar, so I suppose it all worked out."

He studied her for a moment in silence.

"What?" she asked finally.

"I just can't picture you as something as ordinary as an archivist." She snorted. "No, really. It's the whole first impression thing. I've got you in my head as a very unusual and all-powerful Sunpriestess. I don't think I would be able to picture you as a simple archivist, without any illicit activities in the background."

"And you know me that well, do you? You haven't even known me a week. This is, what, the _second_ time you've talked to me?"

"Well, technically. But you left a very lasting impression. It's not often that I am terrified out of my mind because I am about to die very painfully. It is rarer still that I am rescued by one of those who by all rights should be trying to kill me. In fact, it is so rare that I cannot recall another instance of it occurring previously. So perhaps you can imagine how such a memory would stick with me." His voice was so serious it could only be facetious.

She shook her head with a quiet laugh. "I think you have too much time on your hands if you are unable to refrain to making every other word you say into a joke."

"Of course I have too much time on my hands! I'm sojourning in Karse, the Sun Temple of all places. And I can't even go sightseeing! But at least I have a Sunpriestess at my mercy," he continued earnestly. "Now I need something to write with. Let my first session as a torturer – I mean teacher –begin!"

She surrendered with a chorus of laughter and went to find him quills and parchment.


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't understand you. You wholeheartedly admit that the Sunpriests are corrupt and are taking advantage of the common people for their own profit. Yet still you embrace your religion. Your religion is at the heart of what's wrong in this country!" Malachi thought Lillian was almost fanatic in her unswerving devotion to the Sunlord, especially in the face of how the Sunpriests were abusing their power. But she didn't act fanatical in any way and she certainly didn't act remotely like the rest of the Sunpriests.

"Religion is not the problem in Karse. The problem is in how the teachings of Vkandis have been interpreted and put into practice. The core of the religion itself is perfectly sound." Lillian sounded perfectly calm and positively pedantic. She was doing her mask again, the mask she wore to veil her true feelings – the mask she had to wear full-time outside of her rooms. She didn't put her mask on often around him.

_:This must be a sore subject for her,: _Darvin offered.

_:Well, that's nice. It makes no sense to me! Sore or not, I want an explanation!:_

_:It's called "faith," Chosen. She obviously has it. You obviously don't.:_

He wasn't going to justify Darvin's remark with a response. "How is there nothing wrong with your religion? Religion is the life of Karse, and this country is dying!"

Her façade shattered. "I know," she said quietly. "The Sunpriests have Karse in a stranglehold. Karse isn't exactly dying yet, but neither is it growing. We are stagnant for now, but conditions are gradually worsening, so slowly that it's imperceptible to a casual observer. But if you compare Karse now to the Karse of – say a hundred years ago – you can clearly notice the change. My country will get a lot worse before it gets better."

"Will it get better?" he asked softly.

Lillian smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It will. Eventually. I think it will take Vkandis himself to save Karse from itself, though."

"It has already been several hundred years. What makes you think He will come fix all this when He hasn't already?" Because she really believed it. He did not understand how, but she really believed her God would return. The quite despair in her voice suggested she didn't expect Him anytime soon, but she _did_ believe He would come – someday. And it probably_ would_ take a god to heal the ravages done to Karse by those in charge of its welfare.

"Even gods have rules. We have free will. Vkandis cannot yet interfere with our free will." She sighed. "The world is a complicated place. Karse is not yet ready to return to the proper teachings of Vkandis. It will be a long time before it is. I expect our grandchildren's grandchildren will be long dead before Vkandis returns to Karse."

"But you _do _think He will return?" he pressed.

"Parents don't simply abandon their children, not even when the children turn away from their parents. Nor do gods abandon their people. Vkandis _will_ return to Karse. One day." She got a far-away look to her face, as if she was trying to imagine what that day would bring.

"That doesn't explain how you can have such faith in a religion that is rotting the heart of this country from the inside."

She shook her head. "I told you, it isn't the religion itself that is the problem. It is how our religion is practiced. Our current practices are a bastardization of the true practices. The years have eroded the bulwark of the Sun Teachings. They are no longer what they should be, what they once were."

"How does a religion _change_?" Religion was supposed to be a bastion against the corrupting influence of change. "And how can it return to its proper form?"

"Everything changes. Religion –" she floundered for a moment, searching for an explanation. "Imagine a book. Say it is written in Karsite. You translate it into Valdemaran. Then take it to someone else to translate into Rethwellan. Have another person translate it into Hardornen. And a fourth person translates it back to Karsite. If you could compare the Karsite translation to the original Karsite, it won't be the same. Parts of it changed during the translations. And that wasn't even intentional. My religion has been interpreted and reinterpreted for centuries. It deviated from its original form. And somewhere along the way, someone – or maybe a group of people – introduced major changes."

"Like the demon-summoning." It was only conjecture, but he was confident that it was correct.

"Yes. That was not always one of the roles of the priesthood. I believe the inclusion of demon-summoning as a practice of the Sunpriests must have occurred around the time they became corrupt and venial. Or if perhaps the knowledge of controlling demons had been around before that, it would certainly only have become so frequent and commonplace when veniality replaced piety."

He thought for a moment. "So you think your religion has been – poorly translated?"

"Either by accident or artifice, yes." She gave him a smile that a teacher might bestow a student who has finally arrived at the correct premise.

"Well, I suppose that does make sense. Plays based on historical events almost never match up with the records. But how do you expect it to change _back?_ Unless you believe Vkandis will restore the original teachings."

She smiled genially. "He could, but He wouldn't have to. The originals texts still exist. They have been buried in the back rooms of the library, forgotten and collecting dust, for decades, if not centuries . I don't even think Caydrin knows they are back there."

"They were simply put aside and forgotten? I would have thought the Sunpriests would have destroyed them to protect their power base."

"That's what I had thought too. But I think the old texts were put into storage before the priesthood turned their faces away from Vkandis and toward more material power."

"That is possible. I can't think of another explanation for why the texts survived." Malachi didn't doubt most of the Sunpriests would cheerfully murder their own parents to protect or increase their power. Holy texts that could undermine the system that gave them their power would be destroyed without any hesitation.

_:A grim thought, but very true. The wanton destruction of holy texts would ordinarily be considered heretical, but these are Sunpriests we are talking about. They have redefined "blasphemy" and "heresy" to suit their own purposes.:_

"How did you find them, since they have been forgotten for so long? And what did you do with them?" Not that it surprised him in the slightest that she had. If anyone could locate long forgotten religious paraphernalia that proved the Sunpriests had manipulated their religion, it _would _be Lillian. She was likely also the only one with the sense not to draw attention to her discovery. The survival of those texts and her knowledge of them could be easily remedied by the unscrupulous Sunpriests. The texts could be made to disappear – and so could she.

"I told you that I spend much of my time in the Temple Library. I'm usually studying the older, more obscure works, so I'm often translating old dialects and some rather poor handwriting. Usually I will transcribe some of it into clearer, more modern language. But since few have the time or inclination to look over those types of writings, they tend to be stored to the back rooms. That's where I came across some of the original texts." She shook her head. "I was surprised, and quite frankly, amazed to find them there. I thought they had been lost long ago."

She gave a melancholy sigh. "The journals of Porphyr himself, from his years as a novice, before he became one of Vkandis' own prophets? It should be treasured and given a place of honor –" she exhaled angrily " – and I reburied it among works too archaic or poorly written for all but the most dedicated and determined of scholars to look at. And even they won't find it. I laid a spell of misdirection on it. Unless you _know _it is there, you won't be able to find it. The only way to protect our holy texts was to conceal them. I shouldn't have had to do that. But I did, and hopefully the texts will survive. I sincerely hope they survive to help restore Karse." She squeezed her eyes together and let out a slow breath.

_:It was the only thing she could have done with them. Now those books have a chance to be recovered at a time when they can help and can be given the reverence they deserve.:_

"Darvin says you did the right thing. The only thing you could have done."

Lillian looked up dejectedly. "Thanks. But knowing that doesn't help much. The Sunpriests twist the words of Porphyr, remake their meaning so that Porphyr himself wouldn't recognize the verses attributed to him. Did you know that one of the verses they recite at a Cleansing ceremony is from one of Porpyr's Cantos? A Canto that once inspired artisans and bards and philosophers alike?"

"Really? And – now they read it during at one of their damned Fires?" Malachi didn't see the connection. Those Cleansing ceremonies were hardly inspiring. They only thing they inspired was fear and horror. He would know; he had gotten to experience one firsthand.

She nodded. "That's one of the things about religion, most of the texts have some level of ambiguity, so there is rarely, if ever, a clear interpretation of the meaning of a particular verse. I always believed the texts are vague because religion is something each person must find on their own; there is no _one_ path that works for everyone. Try explaining that _here_, though." She gave a mirthless laugh.

Malachi concurred. He was also more than a little disconcerted to hear an echo of Valdemar's standing belief, that there is no one, true way. It was a view that was at odds with Karsite teachings, and was one of things that Karse feared most about Valdemar. It served as a further indicator that Lillian would do well in Valdemar.

_:She wouldn't go.:_

Malachi gave a purely mental sigh. _:Yes, I know. She will stay here, alone and besieged, until they kill her.: _Because he highly doubted Lillian would have the opportunity to die of natural causes. They _would_ kill her. Even if they did not learn of her beliefs, her furtive activities, she was still a threat to the Sunpriests. She was too powerful, even for her façade of a scholar. As young as she was, wearing the Black-robe? It didn't take an exceptional intellect to figure out she was powerful. And the Sunpriests would see her as a threat to _their_ power. Sooner or later, they would try to kill her. Surely she knew that. And yet he knew very well that were he in her position, he would stick it out to the very end, he would not abandon any child to the Sunpriests' hungry Fires.

Yet it pained him to imagine Lillian's inevitable death. They had become good friends in his two weeks as a refugee in her suite. He had spent a considerable portion of that explaining life in Valdemar to the priestess, all the while watching her wistful smile. She wished her people had the freedom Valdemar offered. The Sunpriests were a leech on the soul of Karse, a malignant virus, slowing killing the country. What did it take to be forced to watch your country dying? To know it was an impossible task to cut the cancer out? To try to soothe the pain of the scant handful you could reach? To know such a task will result in your death, and that when you die there will still be no cure in sight?

Karse was a country devoid of hope for the future. And conditions were certain to get a considerable deal worse, long before anything got better. All because of the actions of the Sunpriests.

"What verse did they butcher for their purposes?"

"They put their own interpretation on the Sixth Canto of Porphyr, Verses One through Eight, collectively referred to classically as 'The Flamedancer.'" She closed her eyes and recited:

"_My flames flicker and dance. Join them in their dance and My eyes will open to you, revealing all. Many can enter the flames, but few can join their dance. Open thyself to the dance and merge with the flames. Those who share in My light can share in the dance of the holy fire. But ware! Ward thy heart against the heart of the flame, for if one delves too deeply into flame, one will be lost to it for always. The flames shall devour the unworthy who try to dance their depths, beguiling and leading the entrants astray. Only those pure of heart, of spirit, and of purpose, may be a dancer in the sea of flame."_

Silence descended when she finished.

_:That is – beautiful.: _Darvin said solemnly. _:But I can see how it could be rethought to support the Fires of Cleansing. "The flames shall devour the unworthy." Hmph. I wonder how the _Sunpriests_ would fare in those flames.:_

Malachi shared Darvin's comments with Lillian. She had a grim chuckle at the end. "I've often wondered that," she replied. She sighed. "I managed to find one of the _Flamedancer_-inspired tapestries in the Temple stores some years back. Needless to say, I appropriated it. There are few here who would appreciate it, or even recognize it."

Malachi remembered the tapestry covering her workroom door. "It is very beautiful." If rather abstract. Although, he supposed that might be the point.

The silence stretched. Malachi had noticed Lillian's tendency to swing between emotions, lingering on the melancholy ones. Even her anger was rooted in depression. Two decades of living in despair and desperation would do that to a person, he supposed, especially a person with no one to turn to. She was a very internal person, which made sense under the circumstances.

"You're lucky I'm fluent in both languages," he said, finally.

For a moment Lillian looked confused, but then she flushed. She had been switching back and forth between Karsite and Valdemaran with impunity, often several times in rapid succession. It was difficult to discuss Karse and its religion with a beginner's vocabulary in Valdemaran. She had managed to pick up Valdemaran quite rapidly, however.

"Uh – explained about Companions, you have not," she replied haltingly in Valdemaran.

"You were doing better earlier."

"Easier is it, when about it think I don't."

"Then try not to think about it so much. You're doing extremely well with a language you've only been learning for a fortnight."

She fumbled for words. "An application of my Gifts it is," she finally explained.

_:Very convenient.:_

"That is very convenient," Malachi repeated.

_:Hmph. That's what _I _said.:_

_:And you have to rely on me relaying your comments to her.:_

Darvin gave a mental snort. _:So are you going to explain? She's accepted it on faith so far that I'm not a horse and not a demon. You've done an excellent job avoiding that subject I might add. And Companions _are_ rather important to Valdemar.:_

_:Modest, are you?:_

_:You really should tell her about the Heralds. We are at the heart of most of what sets Valdemar and Karse apart.:_

"What do you know about Heralds?" he asked her.

"They are big white targets." She flushed and continued in stilted Valdemaran. "Very important to Valdemar are they. A threat the Sunpriests see them. White Companions they have. Kill one and the other dies. Companions neither horses nor demons are. Very intelligent, you've shown. 'Darvin says.'"

_:Why does everyone think our uniforms are targets?:_

_:Because they are.:_

"That's a good start. I'll give you an abbreviated history. Long ago a Baron named Valdemar fled injustice with everyone who was willing to come with him. They settled in what became Haven and eventually founded the country of Valdemar. Baron Valdemar was crowned King and was beloved by his people. As he got older he began to worry that future monarchs could turn out as bad as the one they had run from. So one day he went out to the Grove and prayed to every god he had ever heard of, used every Gift he had, and waited for an answer. Late in the day, the Grove began to glow and three Companions stepped out. They Chose Valdemar, his Heir and his chief Herald. Valdemar decreed the title "Herald" would mean far more than it originally did, and that the Heir had to be a Herald. Nowadays Companions are born like normal horses, except for one special one that always comes from the Grove."

Lillian though about his story. "So Companions – they're . . . like Firecats."

"What are Firecats?"

"Cats the size of mastiffs. They are a pale cream color, with red ears, face, paws, and tail. They have blue eyes and are said to talk, much the way Darvin talks I would guess. They take the names of former Sons of the Sun."

_:Companions are very much like Firecats I believe.:_

"Darvin says Companions are similar to Firecats." What Lillian did with language was astounding. She really did better when she wasn't thinking about what she was saying. Of course she occasionally switched back to Karsite when she did that.

"When you said the Companions 'chose' them, what did you mean?"

"_Chose. _Um – well, Companions _Choose_ who will be a Herald. No one is entirely sure how they do that, and the Companions certainly aren't saying anything, but the best explanation is that they look inside a person and judge them somehow."

She nodded, as if she understood what he was trying to say.

"As for how Darvin Chose _me – _he had a sense of humor for that. My family was – still is actually – part of an acting troupe. I was up on stage with my older brother, who was playing the hero of the performance. I had the part of a messenger. Jorris delivered his line of 'What news do you bring?" And, as if on cue, Darvin coming running in, looks me in the eye and Chooses me. My brother was a bit miffed that Darvin and I stole his show, but the rest of my family thought it was fabulous."

Lillian started laughing.

"And now, every time I go visit them, they try to get Darvin to participate in whatever performance they're currently doing. The worst part is, sometimes he agrees – and he makes me get involved too!"

"Does your acting background help you in Karse?" she asked, still smiling.

"It does," he agreed. "They thought my background made me a good candidate for clandestine activities; I learned early how to play a part. But then, I guess so did you."

Immediately he wished he could take back his words. He called himself eight different kinds of idiot as he watched some of the light fade from her eyes.

"I did," she said softly. "I learned quickly, how to survive here. My life isn't the only one that depends on my acting."

"Personally, I think you do a good job. I have seen a lot of actors in my time, and I must say, you are one of the best."

"What is it they say? Survival is a good teacher? Well, when you consider how long he's been my teacher, I _should_ be one of the best."

"In that case, pretend your survival depends on your penmanship. Your Valdemaran looks like chicken scratch – if the chicken was intoxicated."

"Yes, oh great taskmaster."

"And speak Valdemaran!"


	6. Chapter 6

Note: Cara and Tamar aren't mine. They are from Janni Lee Simner's _What Fire Is_, which appears in _Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar._

* * *

><p>"I still don't know how you managed it," Malachi told her, more than slightly drunkenly. A lot more actually. Not so surprising since they were already down to the bottom on the second bottle of wine that accompanied dinner. Their game of hinds and hounds lay abandoned on the table. Lillian was not entirely sure at which point their less-than-sober conversation had taken precedence. "Stolen from your family and thrown to the wolves when you were eight? It's truly a wonder you were able to retain any morals or conscience, let alone the will behind them."<p>

She closed her eyes against the flood of memory. Her head was too muzzy to block it out. There was a reason she didn't get drunk. Imbibing alcohol held no relief for her, only painful memories. A part of her had known she would have to face this eventually, but she had buried it so deep, and for so long, that it hurt to remember. "I wasn't eight when they took me. I was six." Six when the Sunpriests declared she would serve Vkandis, when they led her from the village temple, when she turned her head to find her parents, when she wondered why they looked like they were crying.

"Six?" The wine may have slowed his thinking, but it hadn't dimmed it overly much. "But you said you were eight when you got the idea for that web." He blinked and his eyes got the unfocused look she had come to associate with him talking to his Companion. "Oh, and that was several months after the first Cleansing you witnessed." He paused. "So how long were you here before the first Fire?"

"It was over a year. I was halfway through my second year before the first Cleansing." That Cleansing. She quickly blinked away the tears she felt welling up. There was a reason she had buried that memory. And it wasn't just to hide it from the Sunpriests.

Before she could continue, Malachi inquired further. "Your second year? Isn't that unusually long without a Cleansing? I thought there were typically several a year."

"Usually, yes. But that year was special." She blinked furiously. "That same year I was selected, others were too. One of them, a girl, she was special." _Oh Cara._ It must be all the wine she had consumed; she wasn't using this maudlin. Likely it also had something to do with the fact she tried very hard _not_ to remember. Lillian had made a practice of burying the worst memories; it was easier when she didn't have to remember. Not that she could ever forget completely, and she _never _forgot her reasons. "She helped us, all of us. She was a bright spirit in a very dark place." She managed a weak smile. "She gave advice, just little things, but important."

Again the unfocused look. "Was she the one who advised you to be a quiet child?" he asked.

"Yeah. That was Cara." She needed to swallow, there was a lump forming in her throat. "Most of the ones she gave advice to survived. Most children, if they get through their first couple of years at the Cloister, they – stay. Puberty causes some of the Fires, some crop up without much warning, a lot happen when a child's ability matures, but a significant number occur within the first few years. Difficulty adjusting, discomfort, uncertainty, youthful mistakes, simple naïveté, the problems are endless and Cara – she helped us through it." That sweet, bright girl, who had seemed so big to a little child feeling alone and confused.

"How did she do that? What could she say that made such a difference?" He didn't know. How could he know? It pained her still, all these years later, to know.

"She had a – a witch-power. But it wasn't a witch-power. Out of all of them, hers was not a witch-power. If demons guided her, then there is no hope for the rest of us." Lillian's eyes leaked, so she kept blinking. "Cara could see things before they happened."

Malachi nodded. "We call that the Gift of Foresight."

"Call it what you will, Cara had it. She used it to try to change what she saw happen. Some things she knew she couldn't change." Her throat closed up; she couldn't speak. A few tears trickled down her cheeks.

Even intoxicated, the Herald must have realized he was treading on thin ice, because there was a long pause in the conversation. She couldn't see his expression due to her blurred vision. Finally he asked the question she had been expecting, "What did she say to you?"

Lillian closed her eyes and remembered.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted her as she prepared for bed. Wondering who could possibly be knocking this late, she went to the door. It opened to reveal one of the older children, a dark-haired girl of about twelve years. The girl slipped into her room and closed the door behind her, before Lillian could protest. Confusion swept through Lillian. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

The older girl turned to face her, an odd expression on her face. "I'm Cara. I wanted to talk to you."

"Now? It's late, and I was just about to go to bed." She sounded whiney, and she knew it. She didn't like it here in Sunhame. Six months at the Children's Cloister and the only thing that had changed was the season. Everything was so confusing and _complicated_. She liked the lessoning well enough, but some of the things she was told – they just didn't make sense. Maybe when she got older. Maybe.

Cara shrugged. "I know, but this is just about the only time to talk privately and I don't want anyone else to overhear us."

"Why not?" She may only be six, but she was smart, and she was more than a bit curious.

"Because they wouldn't like what I said. Because I know things I'm not supposed to know. And because few people would open their minds to understand." The girl was very certain of her words.

"Not even the priests would understand?" she asked tentatively. It seemed to her young mind that the priests had some strange ideas.

"The priests least of all."

Lillian was shocked. "Why wouldn't they understand?"

The girl smiled sadly. "Because no one cares to admit they are wrong."

She gaped. The priests were _wrong_? But they were grown-up priests, and Vkandis spoke to them! How could they be wrong? She vaguely recalled Papa saying not-nice things about the Sunpriests, but Mama had hushed him, and they never brought it up again. "But – they're priests. How can they be wrong?" Wasn't not believing the priests heresy? Or was that just not believing Vkandis? And what was the difference?

"Everyone can be wrong," Cara replied. "Even priests. The priests are just less likely to admit it."

Amazingly enough, that made sense to the six-year-old. Certainly there were times she'd thought the grown-ups were wrong. And when the people at the inn argued, _someone_ had to be wrong, even if they were all grown-ups. And even when everyone _knew_ someone was wrong, that person sometimes took a real long time to admit it. It seemed the more grown-up a person was, the less they would admit they were wrong. And the higher the position they had, the less other people would argue the point.

Grown-ups were so complicated sometimes.

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asked earnestly.

The older girl answered her question with another. "Do you know why we were chosen to come here? Why we were picked, and others weren't?"

"The priests picked us, they said we would serve the Sunlord."

"Yes they did," Cara agreed. "But they make their choices for a reason." When Lillian didn't know, she continued. "Each one of us here is special. We have abilities other children don't. Abilities that are useful to the priests. Someone who was a good shepherd wouldn't make a good priest, but a good scholar would. But not all of the chosen would be good scholars. Some of us have – powers."

"Witch-powers?" Lillian asked with eyes wide. She'd heard an awful lot about witch-powers. None of it was good.

Cara shook her head. "They aren't witch-powers, even though they are called that."

"Then what are they?" she asked. So that must be one of the things the priests were wrong about then. And if they were wrong about that, then . . . they must also be wrong about the Fires of Cleansing. But if they were so wrong about that, why didn't someone tell them? Why didn't the Sunlord set them straight?

"I don't really know. Gifts from Vkandis, maybe. Certainly not from demons." Cara shrugged.

"But if they aren't witch-powers, why do the priests Cleanse those who have them? And why doesn't the Sunlord stop them?" She didn't know then that He couldn't interfere whenever He wanted. She had been much older when she had learned that hard truth.

Cara shook her head sadly. "I don't know. The priests are fools, or afraid, but I don't know why. There will come a time when the priests realize it's wrong, but that time won't come for hundreds of years. As for Vkandis, I don't know. One day I'll get to ask Him, but until then I won't know."

"Why are you telling me all this?" she questioned. Six she might be, but she wasn't stupid. Most of this conversation sounded an awful lot like heresy, and heretics were burned.

The older girl met her eyes. "Because you have a witch-power."

"Ihave a witch-power?" she whispered. Cara nodded. "I thought you said they weren't witch-powers," she accused suspiciously.

"They're not. But most people think they are, and will think that for a very long time."

She was terrified. "I – I don't want to be burned." She tried not to cry.

"Not all who have them are burned," Cara told her.

"What?"

"Some become Sunpriests."

Lillian was too shocked to reply.

"I think you are one of the ones that will take vows. I think you can rise pretty high, too."

"You think so?"

Cara nodded again. "Yes. But you'll have to work _really_ hard. And sacrifice _a lot_."

She became thoughtful. "Like what?"

"Your free time. You'll have to study for years and years, even before your power comes. And you have to learn how to hide how you feel. You won't have any real friends in the priesthood, because you won't be able to trust them with the secrets you will have to bear."

"But will I have friends?" she asked hopefully.

"I don't know. Maybe." Cara looked unhappy.

She thought for a moment. "What will my power do?"

"I'm not really sure. Your abilities will be unusual. And complicated. But it'll be powerful._ You'_ll be powerful. You will be something special."

"Could they still burn me?" she asked in a small voice.

"I don't know. I can't tell. If they do, though, it won't be for a long time. I _do _ know that you will shape fire and fire will shape you."

"How do you know?" Lillian wondered.

"I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"I made a promise."

She considered this. "Do you have a – a witch-power too?" she said for lack of a better name to call it.

"I can't say." Cara looked unhappy again.

Lillian shrugged. "That's alright. I understand." And she _did_. "So what do I have to do?"

So Cara told her. Told her to talk quietly and be studious, to not say much or speak up, to dedicate herself to her studies and her God, especially studies _about_ her God, to acquire a reputation as a careful scholar so she would be allowed to spend time unsupervised in the Temple Library, even as a novice. She also said to not be seen to think too much, to instead parrot what she heard or read. "You will be powerful, so you can't let them know you have thoughts other than what you're supposed to have." Cara also cautioned her to not demonstrate her powers too much or too often. "Don't let them think you're dangerous or a threat to them."

And Cara told her explicitly to never tell any of the Sunpriests about this conversation.

"I listened to her instructions. All the stuff about not putting myself forward, I'd been doing already. I had felt so lost when I was brought in, I had found solace in Vkandis, and in the schooling. I found I loved to learn, even if I didn't always understand what they taught us. I had been instinctively, unknowingly, doing exactly what was in my best interest." She managed a bare smile which vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Then, a year later, the Sunpriests came for her at dinner. She went quietly. She knew it was coming," she told Malachi. "They burned her three days later. The fire – wasn't normal. It burned too bright, too hot, too fast, which was good, because that meant she – went – quickly."

"There was another Cleansing two weeks later," she continued. She was speaking too quickly, as though racing the words, trying to get it all out before it caught up to her, trying futilely to finish before she actually remembered the events she was describing. "Another girl. The priest had taken one of the boys – one of the older ones, brought in the same year as me and Cara – as an apprentice and wanted the boy to light the pyre. He didn't. He took the torch and burned himself instead. The priest was furious and lit the pyre himself. Claimed the girl made the boy do it, to try to save herself. I didn't believe him. I didn't say anything, but I knew Tamar had protested the only way he knew how. He wouldn't kill the girl, and they would have killed him for that, but he beat them to it."

She stopped then, having realized she had finished. The end of her narrative broke whatever control still lingered and she began to weep profusely. Perhaps she could have quelled them after a little, could have retreated behind her well-constructed walls, but Malachi put his arms around her comfortingly, and all the pain she had kept repressed for so long rose up.

The strong-willed Black Robe Sunpriestess cried the sorrows of nearly two decades into the shoulder of a Herald as he comforted her.

It seemed an eternity later that the tears finally slowed their descent. Such ordinary comfort as Lillian found in his arms was something she had not experienced in a very long time, and she was in no hurry to leave, especially not when the wounds that had eaten at her heart for years were finally beginning to heal. Malachi gave every indication of understanding, continuing to hold her past the time her tears ceased altogether.

Eventually she had to extricate herself from his embrace, and he obligingly loosened his arms. She lifted her head and met his eyes. She had intended to say "thank you," but the words died on her tongue. She wanted to lose herself in his eyes. The peace and caring within them were alien to the world she inhabited, but she wanted them more for it. She wanted _him_. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she did something on impulse for what was perhaps the first time in a decade or longer.

She kissed him.

It probably could have just been nothing more than a single brief, simple kiss, had it not been for one small thing.

He kissed back.

They broke from the kiss wide-eyed, neither having expected such an action from the other. They met each other's eyes, wordlessly communicating. Simultaneously they surged forward to kiss again, this time with a ferocity that surprised them both.

When they finally separated, panting for breath, she did not hesitate to again follow the impulse that took her. A silent exchange passed between them, and then they were moving away from the couch. They carefully picked their way across the room, all the while stealing kisses, heading for her bedroom.

His head ached. _How_ much wine had he consumed the night before? Quite obviously a great deal, judging by the condition of his head. And unfortunately, not even his aching head could keep Darvin out.

_:Have a good night?: _the Companion asked sardonically.

_:Leave me alone,: _ he replied sleepily. Other than his head, he was quite comfortable. He could probably go back to sleep and try to sleep off some of his wretched hangover. He shifted slightly, and noticed something wasn't right. He opened his eyes to see what it was, but closed them immediately, all thoughts of sleep forgotten.

_Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no. _This could not be happening.

_:Oh yes it is,: _Darvin told him, ever so sweetly. He restrained a wince.

There was not enough alcohol in all of the world to excuse his stupidity. He had been a capital idiot, the ultimate fool.

He opened his eyes again to take a second look and wished he hadn't, wished he could ignore what he was seeing. There was no mistaking the woman lying beside him – and no question about what had happened.

He had gotten himself severely drunk and had gone to bed with Lillian. The Black Robe Sunpriestess. He had become friends with her over the past moon, but that didn't change the fact she was a Black Robe Sunpriestess. In his bed. Or, actually, he was in _her_ bed, the bed of a Black Robe Sunpriestess.

Then he remembered something else from last night that _did_ make him wince. He had gone to bed with a drunk _virgin_ Black Robe Sunpriestess.

_Bloody hell. _How much of a fool could he have been?

_:Quite a large fool, evidently.: _

_:That is _not_ helping, Darvin!: _

_:And what, pray tell, _would _help, hmm? How exactly do you think I can help? What do you expect me to do?: _Darvin could be quite acidic when he wanted to. _:I did not realize there _was_ anything I could do about your interpersonal relations. If you make a mess of things, it's up to you to fix it as best as you can.:_

_:How do I fix _this_?:_

_:How am _I _supposed to know?: _the stallion retorted. _:Hmph. This isn't something I can help you with, Malachi. You're on your own here.:_

When he tried to protest, the Companion shut him out. Malachi then ran through a long list of colorful expletives, in several languages, using them first on the now-blocked Darvin who couldn't hear him, before finally turning them on himself. Darvin was right, he would be of no help. He had to sort this out on his own. Unfortunately he didn't know how.

There was no denying the fact that he had taken advantage of an inexperienced and highly intoxicated young woman. That he was no less intoxicated and, near as he could figure, close in age was no excuse. She had been particularly vulnerable last night and, coupled with the wine, she had certainly been in no fit state to be making decisions like this. He _should _have known better, and he _definitely_ should have behaved in a more appropriate manner. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. He only hoped she wouldn't completely hate him.

Regardless, he would make his apologies later, after she – got dressed. He would leave her to wake up on her own, and after she was ready to face him he would apologize. Profusely. And probably promising to leave as soon as humanly possible would be good; he was almost healed after all. He just needed to get himself _out_ of her bed. Which was presenting a problem.

She was curled up against him, fitted into the curve of his arm, using his chest as a pillow. He wasn't sure he could get up without disturbing her. He thought it would be considerably less awkward if she woke up alone, however, so he had to try.

He had not gotten far before she started stirring. When she settled down he tried again, making smaller, gentler movements toward the edge of the bed. He had nearly made it when she woke up.

"Mmmm?"

He froze.

"Malachi? What are you doing?" she asked groggily.

"I was – uh – just getting up."

"What for?"

"Um, I uh – well, ah, I um – " He couldn't think of an excuse. He didn't really want to get into having to explain right now. He wanted to apologize when she was awake enough to understand why he was apologizing and that he really meant it. Not when her sleep- and wine-clouded mind might be willing to dismiss the wrong he had done her. And preferably not when the either of them was wearing nothing more than their hair.

"Oh." She drew out the syllable as if she had realized what had happened. She brushed off the lingering effects of sleep and sat up. He hastily averted his eyes and met her eyes instead. They seemed to draw him in. "I think I see. You think you took advantage of me, don't you?" He tried to stammer an answer, but she cut him off with a quick shake of her head. She winced as the movement aggravated what must be a headache equally as powerful as his own.

"I may have had an awful lot of wine, or so my head is telling me, but I knew exactly what I was doing." She smiled languidly as he stared at her, stunned. "I think I wanted to do that for a while now, probably since around the time you finally started treating me like a friend. I don't get many friends. But I've been considering doing that for a while now, even if it took ridiculous amounts of alcohol before it actually happened."

She tilted her head at him. "So don't you be thinking you took advantage of poor, inexperienced, intoxicated me. Because you didn't." Then she smiled, an alluring smile. "And I will prove it to you." She advanced on him and persuaded him to come away from the edge of the bed.

It didn't take all that much persuasion in the end.


	7. Chapter 7

When Lillian entered the room, closing the door behind her, the first thing he saw was the blank expression on her face. It was not a blank, impassive look, more like something had happened that she couldn't comprehend – or didn't want to. There was a stunned quality to her eyes that made him realize that whatever was wrong – and something most definitely was – she hadn't fully processed it yet. She stared at him, not really seeing him, too caught up in this latest event causing her so much trouble coping.

She met his worried gaze, and suddenly her whole appearance transformed. Her shoulders slumped forward and her body shook with suppressed emotion. The stunned look was replaced by something far more gut-wrenching: despair. Grim, bleak, hopeless despair. The expression seemed to clash with everything he knew about Lillian. She was always so vibrant, so full of life. She believed wholeheartedly in her God, despite everything taking place in Karse; she believed He was granting His children free will, letting them make their own mistakes, in the hope that they would learn and grow. Malachi had seen her weary and tired, but _never_ had he seen any hint of this devastating despair. It was so out of place on Lillian, especially considering how _happy_ she had been, just this morning.

"Lee," he said, volumes of concern and caring in his voice. "What's wrong?"

His question brought her attention back to the here and now. He watched as she tried to pull herself together, but the despair would not release her. "Nothing, nothing," she lied, no longer meeting his eyes. "I just . . ." Her voice trailed off as her eyes unfocused again. She shook her head. "It's nothing. I think I just need to bathe. I don't feel very clean right now."

He knew her words were hiding a world of pain and uncertainty, but he didn't know how to break through and help her. He wasn't even sure if she would let him. This morning seemed so impossibly long ago. "If you're sure." He left his sentence hanging, making it into a question, an attempt to reach out to her without being demanding. She didn't take his opening. She gave him a quick nod, so brief it was almost rude, and fled into her bathing chamber.

He saw the beginnings of tears in the priestess's eyes as she passed him, but he did nothing. He just watched her close the door, standing there awkwardly, not wanting to intrude, but wanting to help. Or at least try to. He turned away, about to head back to his room, when he heard the sound of running water. He walked over to the wall separating him from Lillian, and rested his forehead against its surface. He raised his hand and laid it flat against the wall, fingers outstretched.

He sighed and pushed away from the wall. He wished he knew what he could do to help her. Perhaps she just needed time to sort through her problems alone. The bath was just an excuse to give herself time. The fact that the water was not going into the bathtub and instead was coming from the strange spigot contrivance was an attempt to get herself some privacy; the constantly falling water would disguise any sounds she made. He wished he knew how to reach out to her. Darvin hovered awkwardly in the back of his mind, but the Companion had no answers for him. Malachi sat down on a chair and slumped. He felt like a failure.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there when his bleak thoughts were interrupted by the sound of muffled thuds emanating from the bathing room.

It sounded as if Lillian was pounding her fists against the walls in frustration.

He wished he could do the same. The thuds faded, soon replaced by other muffled sounds. Malachi realized she was crying. The powerful Sunpriestess was sobbing out her despair to a background of falling water. Even through the concealing distortion of the water he could hear her misery. He hesitated for a fraction of a second as his mind and heart warred. His heart won.

Malachi stood up and went over to the door. Again he hesitated, and again his heart decided for him. He knocked gently on the door. No response. He realized she probably couldn't hear the gentle knocking. Fearful she might rebuff his help if he knocked more forcefully, he eased the door open a crack. Her pained sobs became clearer. That sound distressed him, but also decided him. He slipped cautiously into the room.

The first thing he noticed was the light – or rather the lack thereof. None of her globes of light were emitting more than the faintest glimmer. She must not have wanted the room's usual brightness to bother her. He ached with sympathy for her, wishing he could offer more than a shoulder to cry on. The sounds of water and heart-rending pain were coming from the curtained off corner of the room. He headed in that direction. "Lee?" he called softly. His only answer was the falling of water and the despair of a woman he considered a friend. "Lee?" he called again, this time slightly louder.

Now he heard splashes as she moved. "Go away! Leave me alone," she shouted – or tried to. It might have been intended as a shout, but her voice broke and the anguish spilled into her words. It came out as a strangled cry.

Everything he knew, everything he had been taught, everything he had learned in his twenty five years told him to leave. It was these same things that had urged him not to enter, told him to give her space to deal with her own problems. Everything he had learned in his time with the priestess, however, screamed that something was wrong, really, _really_ wrong, and she needed his help. Instinct told him to listen to his heart, but knowledge and experience said such instinct could lead him astray. Everything that had happened recently had showed him that Lillian rarely respected his expectations; she ran counter to everything he had ever imagined.

With all that in mind he stepped forward and pushed back the curtain. Through the dim light and the water he met her eyes. She narrowed her eyes and shoved him back. Tried to – he caught her wrists and stepped barefoot over the raised edge onto the wet tiles. She angrily tried to free her arms, but he held fast as she fought.

The anger that sustained her soon drained out of her and the tears returned to her eyes.

Now he released her, but instead of pulling away, Lillian stepped forward and reached for him. Malachi wrapped his arms around her wet form and held her close as she buried her face in his shirt and wept. He suspected his grip was the only thing keeping her on her feet, so he lowered himself to sit down on the wet tiled floor. He pulled her down with him, and she curled up next to him, still crying her heart out. Then he did the only thing left for him to do, he held her, wordlessly giving her comfort and support as she wept in anguish.

The water was still coming down from the spigot, but he ignored it. He held her as she depleted the seemingly endless reservoir of tears. This was an intimacy different from the kind they had shared last night. This was Lillian, the formidable Black Robe Sunpriestess, utterly helpless and absolutely vulnerable. This was her soul, lay bare for him to see.

How long they sat there, he could not say. Long enough for his clothing to become completely soaked through. Long enough for the hot water to run out and leave them in a cold rain. Long enough for the cold and the damp to make him uncomfortable and her shiver.

Long enough for her tears to run dry.

When that finally happened he shook her gently. "Hey, Lee. I don't think either one of us really wants to get up, but sitting here, wet and cold, is only going to make us both sick."

She looked up at him with red, swollen eyes and blinked. "Oh, I got you all wet, Kai. I'm sorry."

He smiled gently. "I think I got myself all wet. If I recall correctly, you tried to get me to leave. I was the stubborn one who didn't listen and walked into the water with my clothes on."

Lillian bit her lip. "I'm sorry." Then she added hesitantly, "For what it's worth, I'm – I'm glad you didn't listen to me. I was the one being stubborn; you were just trying to help. Thank you." The pain was still there in her eyes, but it was no longer an all-encompassing despair.

"You are forgiven, my dear, and most welcome," he replied lightly. "Now, about the cold water."

A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth. "I can't do anything about the wet, but I change the temperature," she offered.

"Really?"

She nodded. "It is a simple matter. I heat water all the time." As she spoke, he could feel the water falling out of the spigot get warmer.

"I must say, that is a neat trick. How do you do that?"

"It is just an application of fire – " she broke off. She didn't glance guiltily at him, so she hadn't broken off to avoid upsetting him. Perhaps it had to do with whatever had sent her into such despair.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" she asked guiltily.

"Whatever it was that turned you into a human rainstorm."

"No." He looked at her, and she flushed. "I – yes, actually. Which you already knew, of course."

He smiled at her. "Just making sure you knew it too."

"It – they – " she faltered. Lillian breathed deeply and tried again. "There's going to be another Cleansing," she blurted, rising panic making the words come too fast.

Malachi stiffened. A Cleansing. He remembered the last Cleansing too well. He forced his muscles to relax before responding. "You've dealt with Cleansings before," he reminded the Sunpriestess beside him, willing away the haunting memory of the flames.

"Yes, but – this time it is my niece."

Shock made him stiffen again. After all this time, he still didn't know much about her family. That first day she had told him that she had given up her familial ties when she entered the priesthood. She hadn't really mentioned them much after that. He knew it was more than that, however. He knew that she hadn't been allowed to see her family since she had been brought to the Cloisters as a child. Still, she had authority now, and had for several years now, almost as long as he had his Whites. It made sense that she would want to keep tabs on her family, to make sure they were all right. If she was willing to break Sunpriest doctrine and rescue children from the flames, he doubted she had any qualms about bending the rules to check up on her family.

"Dear gods," he whispered. "How – what – when?" he managed, to stunned to know which question to ask first – or coherently.

"Anna is ten," Lillian replied softly. "The ceremony is scheduled to occur in two days time. Which means you'll be leaving in a few days."

"What? Leaving? Why?" Now he was really confused. What did a new Cleansing have to do with him leaving? He wasn't quite fully healed yet, but it was just his ribs and fingers left, the broken bones that only time would finish healing. They didn't trouble him, but that was because Lee's magic was acting as a cast, holding the healing bones immobile. They were probably almost healed by now, but he hadn't been ready to leave. Lee still represented an intriguing paradox and, more importantly, she was his friend. And, after last night, he had hoped she might become more.

Lillian looked up at him, pleading in her eyes. "I want you to take her back to Valdemar." He gaped at her. "Please," she begged. "I know you would look out for her. I – I need to know she's safe. I can't protect her. I can't protect my family. I can only get her out of Karse. But you – you could protect her, keep her safe. Please?" she begged again through her tears.

She looked so helpless, so desperate – and so beautiful. He didn't have the heart to refuse such a request. Lillian had saved his life, how could he not in turn protect her family? Especially a child, one for whom the Sunpriests had bestowed a sentence of death. He could feel Darvin's complete agreement. "Of course I'll do my best to take of her," he told her and he could feel some of the tension drain from her slim form. "Just make sure to explain to her that we white-clad northerners aren't demons, okay?" he joked to conceal his unhappiness.

He didn't want to leave – to leave _her_. When he left, she would be all alone, all alone among the monsters who had no difficulty condemning innocent children to horrible deaths. She had survived for this long quite well, it was true, but the time had left its scars.

She was just an expert at hiding them.

His heart bled for her. He could barely imagine what she had been through, but he knew most of it would have broken a lesser person. Malachi wanted so much to protect Lillian. It was ironic really – a Herald wanting to protect a Black Robe Sunpriest – but that was how it was. And he knew that as much as he wanted to protect her, there was nothing he could do. It was an inescapable fact that as long as she stayed in Karse, she would continue doing exactly what she had been doing – saving the innocents who would die without her – regardless of the danger posed to her.

And she would not leave. As he would have to.

He could not stay. Even if Darvin would let him remain, even if he could avoid the danger of the close proximity to so many Sunpriests, he could not stay in Karse. He would not stay.

Duty called him. He served Valdemar. He could not do that from here. He could justify his stay so far – broken ribs needed time to heal. But he could not justify it for much longer. As much as he didn't want to admit it yet, he _was_ nearly healed. And therefore he could not lag here anymore. At least this way was better than just leaving. Now he _had _to leave – he had a solid reason. He could feel less as if he were abandoning Lillian to face the horrors of Karse alone.

He _could_ – if only he could convince himself of that. His head might understand the need to leave, but his heart still raged at him, still berated him for even considering leaving this woman alone in the harshness of this country. She was strong, yes, but what she was forced to deal with was like acid wearing away at her defenses.

Eventually it might break her.

Eventually she could slip, and that would be fatal in her position.

"You never told me anything about your family," he said to distract himself.

"Probably because I never really got a chance to know them." He could hear the pain in her voice. "I was only six when I left. I – I – I don't – really – remember them much. Just – fragments – that I managed to hold onto. Most of what I actually know I – I learned from merchants and traders." Her voice cracked. She was trembling again, curled up tight against him.

"Tell me about them," he coaxed gently when it became apparent she wasn't going to continue.

"I was the youngest – of seven children. My mother suffered three miscarriages after me. She was pregnant when I was taken. She died in childbirth. I – I always felt that she couldn't bear the thought of having another child taken by the priests. My father was caught in a flood four years back. He was with my youngest brother, Kelvin, at the time. Neither survived. Two of my sisters fell to fever before they could marry. Garrick, Adeline, and Jasper are still in Clifton. They each married and have thirteen kids between them."

"Which one . . . ?" he asked.

"Anna is the third child of my eldest brother, Garrick. She's been here a year and a half now." She swallowed. "Once I realized she was my niece, I've been an eye on her. I can't make it obvious, of course, but I tried to look out for her. Fat lot of good I was at that." She was shaking horribly now, trying and failing to stifle her sobs.

He put his arms around her tightly, trying to hold her together, trying to keep her from falling apart. "You did everything you could. You're doing everything you can. You're getting her out of here, out of Karse. She'll be safer in Valdemar. She won't have to live in fear of the Sunpriests, won't have to grow up and fear for her children. You're giving her that. You're giving them all that, all the ones you've saved, all the ones you _will_ save." He kissed her forehead.

"It never seems like enough," she sobbed. "Never enough. I can't save them all."

"No one can," he whispered quietly. "We can't, and we work with the support of our people. All we can do is save the ones we can, and pray for those we can't."

As tears softly rolled down his cheeks the silence stretched, broken only by the sounds of her heart-wrenching sobs and the splashes made by the falling water. Malachi didn't quite know if he was crying for her or for all the ones that couldn't be saved. Perhaps it was for both.

His tears stopped long before hers, but he let the heartsore priestess cry herself out again.

"You will make yourself sick if you keep this up," he teased her gently. She gazed up at him forlornly with blotchy, bloodshot eyes through her wet, bedraggled hair. She looked so hopeless he almost started crying again.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered hoarsely, "I never cry."

"Maybe because you've never had a shoulder to cry on before," he replied lightly. Lightly because he knew the truth of his words – she had never shared enough of herself with anyone to leave her heart and soul this exposed. She couldn't, not with her furtive activities.

And was it arrogant of him to suspect some of her sorrow stemmed from her impending separation with the only real friend she ever had? She had never been this open to anyone before, and he doubted she ever would be again.

"I suppose you're right," she responded quietly. "I've never had the luxury to dwell on these things before. But being able to, having someone to cry to who will comfort you – it's cathartic. Thank you. For being here, for me. It means more to me than you could know." Her smile, though weak, was sincere, and the hopelessness was gone from her eyes.

"It's not like I had anywhere else to be," he joked. "I am still stuck here after all." Malachi made a show of looking at his surroundings. "I've been in worse prisons, around here especially."

"What? No, you're not a pri – " she began, horrified.

He put a finger on her lips to cut her off. "I _know_ that. It was a joke. I was _trying_ to cheer you up, but since that obviously didn't work, I'll just have to try something else."

He crooked his fingers, gave what he thought was an evil smile, and knew there was a sly gleam in his eyes.

Lillian became apprehensive.

He attacked.

She convulsed on the slick tiles as he tickled her mercilessly. She struggled to evade his wriggling fingers as he laughed with her. His sodden garments weighed him down and slowed his movements, but they also protected him from being tickled in turn. She was laughing too hard to escape. He had the upper hand in this battle.

Only when neither one of them could breathe did he relent, and they collapsed on the wet floor trying to catch their breath.

"All cured?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes," she panted. "Absolutely."

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the calming sound of the falling water as their breathing became more even. Finally, Lillian broke the silence.

"I will miss you, Malachi. As I mentioned last night, I don't get many friends, and you are probably my truest friend. I'm glad I had the opportunity to get to know you."

"Same. I think even that unfortunate incident was worth the past moon, even if we did get off to a bad start." He chuckled.

"Well, that was simple enough to remedy. A few minutes chatting with me and you were more confused anything else." She smiled at the memory.

"A few jokes and a _really_ complicated explanation later, I was still confused, but I understood you were a sneaky little thing, skulking about in your Black Robes rescuing people on the sly. Even poor, confused Heralds struggling to grasp why he had been saved by the evil Sunpriestess."

"Oh, yes. The evil Sunpriestess, torturing the poor, battered Herald she keeps trapped in her closet by confusing the hell out of him."

"So that's what you were doing? I always suspected you were being deliberately perplexing. That was your diabolical master plan all along. Keep me baffled and off-balance, so you could seduce the poor, virtuous Herald."

She giggled. He liked to hear her giggle – it sounded so cute.

"So you are confused, battered, virtuous, and very, very poor."

"Huh? Oh. Certainly seems that way, doesn't it?" He laughed.

She nodded as her eyes twinkled. Her expression turned serious and he waited for her to give voice to her thoughts.

"You will take care of Anna, won't you?" she eventually asked, with an edge of uncertainty in her tone.

"I promised, didn't I? And Darvin will help as well. We'll keep her safe, I promise."

"I knew you would, but – " She sighed. "I worry too much, don't I?"

"No." He shook his head. "In your position, you have a great deal to worry about. It is only right to worry about how best to protect your niece."

"But I don't have to worry about that anymore, do I? Because you'll take care of her." She paused for a moment. Her lips slowly stretched into a smile. "Besides, I have something far more important to worry about for now."

"And what's that?" he asked confused.

"How to make the most of our last few days of course." Enlightenment dawned as she leaned over to kiss him. "Starting with how to get you out of that wet clothing."


	8. Chapter 8

"When will she wake up?" he asked uncertainly. The girl had been here several hours, but was still sleeping soundly. "Is it normal for her to sleep this long?" He had been awake when Lillian returned to her rooms that first night, and he sincerely doubted she had been gone _this_ long.

"She should awaken fairly soon," the priestess replied calmly. "And yes, most sleep for a while after I transport them here. _You _didn't, but that was atypical. There are a great many differences between you and my usual guests."

"How much will she remember?" he hesitantly questioned. "Of the Fire?" That wasn't an experience he wanted a child to have to live with.

"A child's mind is amazingly resilient," Lillian said quietly. "My web induces sleep, allowing her mind to shield itself from the horror it has just experienced. The web fosters that defense mechanism, encouraging her mind to distance itself from the memory. She'll know it happened, but it won't seem so immediate, merely a distant memory." She looked over and met his eyes. "The same thing occurred with you, but to a lesser degree, and more gradual."

If she had not mentioned it, he doubted he would have noticed. Had she not called attention to it, he would have thought nothing of it. But since she pointed it out, he realized she was right. The memory of being burned alive is not something a person would normally forget. Memories like that were the sort to cause someone to wake up in the middle of the night, terrified and sweating. The sort that emotionally scarred someone for life. Not the sort to simply be accepted and put aside. The sort that could be forgotten. Under normal circumstances.

But then, what about Lillian was normal?

"No one's mind reacts in quite the same manner. Some remember it vaguely, like a dream. Your mind didn't put much distance before you and the memory, though. Possibly because you are trained to remember things in such detail. Maybe also because you are amazingly stubborn and strong-willed." She smiled. "Like someone else I can think of. But regardless, most fall somewhere between the two ends of the spectrum. They remember, but they shouldn't wake screaming from nightmares because of it."

He stared at her in astonishment. Eventually she tired of the silence and the staring and asked, "What?"

"It's just – it never ceases to amaze me just how much thought and effort you've put into this." He waved his hands vaguely, shaking his head in wonder. "_All_ of this. You've dedicated your entire life to working behind the scenes, saving lives, and you still manage to attend to the little things. Like a child's nightmares."

She gave a sad smile. "They've been through enough. I don't want them to have to carry the scars of their childhood forever. They can't go home, they can't stay here. I just want to give them every chance of finding peace that I can. They didn't deserve to have their childhood stolen. I can't give it back to them, but I can give them this, this little bit of peace of mind."

He wrapped her in a tight embrace, releasing her only after he blinked away the moisture in his eyes. "The world needs more people like you," he told her solemnly.

"If there were more people like me, there would be far too many stubborn people to contend with. That many stubborn, independently-minded people would be sure to butt heads and would almost certainly cause more problems than they fixed," she responded teasingly.

He had to smile at that. He shook his head at her, finding a laugh to let loose at her comment. Malachi was saved from having to think of a suitable retort because Anna chose that moment to begin to stir.

He waited quietly to the side as Lillian explained to her very confused niece what had happened. He had a strong suspicion she had experienced very similar conversations in the past.

"Am I dead?"

"No, you're not. "

"But I thought I was dying. I was – being Cleansed."

"Yes, but I intervened, as I have done before. You are very much alive and safe."

"But how?"

"Priestly magic. Very, very complicated and intricate priestly magic."

"That's not a very good answer."

Malachi very nearly burst out laughing. It seemed little Anna had some spunk in her. It must be a family trait.

"I know. But it's the best answer I can give without going into the very complicated specifics of the very long story that a full answer would require. And the complicated specifics are incredibly confusing, and all you would really understand is that I used really complex, elaborate priestly magic. Just ask him," Lillian continued, indicating him. "He got the full explanation. He didn't understand half of it."

"I got that it was confusing. And far more complicated than I care to think about," he put in, nodding. "Don't try to have her explain. It will only give you a headache."

Anna looked at him, then back to the priestess. A Sunpriest was a recognized authority figure. As far as the girl was concerned, he took a poor second place to a Sunpriest. "Who is he?" A pause. Then more quietly and more curious, "Who are you?"

Lillian smiled. "That's Malachi. He's a friend. He's also a bit complicated. My name's Lillian. I'm your aunt. Sorry we couldn't have met under more auspicious circumstances."

The girl blinked. Repeatedly. "My aunt?" she repeated slowly. "You're my aunt?" Malachi had to give the girl some credit. Even after everything she'd been forced to deal with tonight, the child was handling everything pretty well. "My da had a sister taken by the priests," she said slowly, drawing out the statement until it was a question.

Lillian nodded.

"They wouldn't really talk about it, but I was guess they named me after you. Sort of," Anna added hesitantly.

"It is generally considered bad luck to name a child after one taken by the priests," Lillian stated, nodding. "But Gar wouldn't have wanted to forget his baby sister, so he gave his daughter a similar name. Jayna always did like my name. She used to find bunches of the small valley-lilies and braid them into my hair," she continued softly. "Jayna wouldn't have minded naming her daughter after me. Probably regretting it now though."

"Ma always used to braid flowers into my hair," the girl replied uncertainly. Silence grew as she processed all that happened and searched for words. "What happens now?" she finally asked.

"Everyone thinks you died," Lillian told her. "I'm going to get you out of Karse, somewhere you'll be safe."

The girl gaped for a moment before responding. "But I didn't die! I'm not dead!" she protested.

"I know, but outside this room, everyone else thinks you are dead."

"How can they think that? You saved me. I didn't die."

"I did so in a clandestine manner. One I've done quite frequently over the years. No one else knows I did it. And it is our best interests to keep it that way. As a good friend told me many years ago, the Sunpriests are less inclined than anyone to admit when they are wrong. And they are wrong about a great many things," the priestess said sadly.

"But where will I go?" Anna inquired, completely bewildered. Her entire world was crumbling around her. And, as Malachi knew very well, a sizeable chunk had yet to be dropped on her.

"I was leading up to that," Lillian replied cautiously. "Do you remember last month? When the entire Temple was stirred up?" _Malachi _certainly remembered it. All too clearly.

"You mean when they caught and Cleansed that White Demon?" the girl asked, with an air of childhood excitement that was only associated with getting close to fearful or forbidden things.

He could see a smile pushing itself up at the corners of Lillian's mouth. It was probably all she could do to not break out grinning. "Yes. About that," Lillian began. "Technically it was actually the Demon-Rider that they caught. The Demon itself got away."

"But didn't they say the death of the Rider kills the Demon too?" Anna clearly had no idea where this conversation was going.

"Ye-es," the Sunpriestess answered, somehow making two syllables from that short word. If the situation hadn't been so serious, he probably would have laughed at Lillian's uncomfortable dancing around the point. "Neither one actually died," she finished awkwardly.

"They made us watch. We saw him die."

"You saw what everyone tonight saw." Poor Anna was so thoroughly confused by now she couldn't see what her aunt was trying to say. The priestess sighed. "He's right over there."

Malachi couldn't resist waving cheerfully.

Anna's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Her gaze couldn't dart between the Black Robe and the White Demon fast enough. Finally her gaze stopped on her aunt, her expression begging for an explanation.

"I told you the Sunpriests were wrong about a lot of things. Neither Malachi nor his Companion are demons, nor have they ever had communion with demons. He's been here a month now and I consider him a friend." Anna was still looking bug-eyed, compounded by the way she way trying to watch him from the corner of eye without being overt about it. Needless to say, she was failing. "I saved him the same way I did you."

"But _why_?" implored the child.

"For all that the Priesthood expounds on the horrors of demons and the blasphemy it is to traffic with them, the Sunpriests are the only ones I have ever encountered that actually have dealings with demons. The Nightstalkers? They are summoned and controlled by Sunpriests. And yet what they most frequent accuse the Valdemarans of is consorting with demons. So I took a chance, a chance that the Sunpriests were as hypocritical as I have seen them to be, and rescued a so-called White Demon the same way I have rescued countless children. As I suspected, Malachi and his people do not work with demons, nor do they have the intention or knowledge to do so. Much of what the Sunpriests have taught you is wrong, child."

"What's that got to do with me?" Anna asked uncertainly.

"I asked Malachi to take you with him back to Valdemar."

Anna froze, shocked and terrified.

"I trust him with my life. He will take care of you. You'll be safe in Valdemar."

Anna didn't look convinced.

"Believe me. I spent most of the past moon with Malachi, I know him rather well. He is a good man. He will protect you."

"Can't you come with me?"

Malachi found a lump in his throat.

"I can't," Lillian said quietly. "I'm needed here. I have to be here for all the other children. The ones the Sunpriests will try to kill. I need to be here to protect them. But it isn't safe for you here. It isn't safe for you to stay. So you have to go with Malachi. He'll protect you. Him and Darvin." It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as much as her niece.

"Darvin?"

"Malachi's Companion, the not-horse that the priests call a White Demon. Darvin isn't a demon though. He's – more of a Valdemaran version of a Firecat."

_:I can't say I like being described as a Valdemaran Firecat, but at least it is better than being called a demon.:_

"Like Reulan and the Firecat?"

"Yes, very much like that. Except that Companions bond exclusively to one person, one very special person. These people are called 'Heralds.' Malachi is a Herald. Heralds generally have what you know as witch-powers. These powers have _nothing_ to do with demons, and in fact are little different from the powers of the Sunpriests."

_:I guess she's giving Anna an abbreviated explanation of everything _now_ so the girl will have a chance to think it all over and go back to the well-known authority figure before we leave.:_

_:It is a good approach,: _Darvin agreed. _:This way the child won't get over her shock halfway to the border and start worrying about the 'demons' again.:_

"But then . . . why do they teach us the – other stuff?" Anna asked timidly.

"Because they lie," Lillian replied simply. "Often and extensively. They rewrite history and facts to suit their own purposes. Roughly two hundred years ago Karse went fanatically anti-magic. From what I have been able to determine, this was mainly a reaction to Herald Vanyel of Valdemar, more commonly known as Vanyel Demonlord, who was able to break the control some of the Priests of the time had on their demons and turn the creatures back on their summoners."

She paused and pursed her lips in a grim expression. "Hypocritical really, they admitted they were summoning demons, but they had everyone too busy worrying about the Great and Terrible Valdemaran Demonrider to notice. But anyway, the Priesthood made a _big_ fuss about how magic was evil because this mage was able to Counter their Holy Powers Granted to them By Vkandis Sunlord Himself to be used Only for the Benefit of the People and the Continuation and Defense of the Light. A bunch of nonsense really. They were upset they _weren't_ the most powerful, and people were beginning to question them.

"So then someone up in the highlands started going on about how mages were evil, and their evil was bringing misfortune to Karse, which was clearly shown by those Sunpriests being defeated by that Evil Mage from Valdemar. He called himself 'the Prophet' and managed to attract a bit of a following. I haven't found anything yet explaining just _who_ this 'Prophet' was, but I'd guess he was one of the younger Sunpriests, hoping to amass a support base for himself, and get a head up on everyone. Either that or he was a just crazy fanatic who managed to find the right cause to get the support of the Sunpriests.

"Whatever the case, the Sunpriests saw this as a great opportunity to get a firmer grip on Karse. Vkandis was the official state religion, but we had an actual monarch as well, not the pathetic 'Court' we have now of petty social-climbers. The Priesthood decided the best way to unite the people behind them was to give them a hideous enemy to unite _against_. So they demonized mages, and by extension, the Valdemarans, who they saw as a threat to their way of life, and who they weren't exactly on friendly terms with _anyway_."

Lillian grimaced. "Now, there were an awful lot of people who were less than pleased with this holy crusade. Unfortunately, many of them were 'merely' peasants. There was basically a minor civil war in Karse, and when it was over, the Priesthood had absolute control of the country and anyone with any hint of power, or Gift as the Valdemarans call it, either fled Karse, joined the Priesthood, or died."

_:Pretty heavy stuff to tell a ten-year-old child,: _Malachi remarked.

_:People have to grow up fast in Karse. Especially in Sunhame. The Sunpriests are an unforgiving authority.: _Darvin didn't like it any more than he did.

_:True,: _he agreed. _:And at the very least it's an interesting history lesson.:_

_:At the time, Valdemar couldn't get clear information on what was happening, and then afterwards Karse unerringly thought us to be the Land of Demons, so no one was able to obtain the information then either.:_

_:She put together a fairly neat picture from her journal accounts and speculation. Abilene would _love_ to pick her brain.:_ Herald-Chronicler Abilene was very interested in the motivations behind people's actions. Get her started on history, and she would talk your ear off unless something important came up that she had to do.

"How do you know that's what happened?" Anna said, faintly accusing. Malachi smothered a smile. It was no wonder the girl hadn't done well in Karse; she had far too much spunk.

Lillian evidently thought the same, for Malachi saw the smothered expression on her face too. "I read. The olds texts and journals still exist, much to the dismay of the Sunpriests if they knew. Someone saw which way the wind was blowing and stored a great many of the older works in the lesser-used rooms in the back of the Temple Library. I found them, read them, and hid them away for a day they can make a difference. If I revealed their existence now, at least half the priesthood would unite – to make the texts – and me – disappear."

The child gaped in shock. Anna had probably never heard anything negative said about the Sunpriests – or if she had, the speaker had been quickly silenced by whoever else was present. Now an aunt she had never met before, and a Black-robe Sunpriestess to boot, a respected and feared figure of authority, was telling her, clearly and in great detail, that everything she had ever been taught was a lie. The Sunpriests were corrupt, and the Valdemarans weren't demons.

Not to mention the nice man in the corner was a Valdemaran himself, and a friend of the Sunpriestess. A man the girl had "seen" die just a month before, as all the others had "seen" Anna die this afternoon.

The girl's entire world had been flipped upside-down and shaken. Thoroughly.

Unsurprisingly, Anna began to cry. And Lillian did what Malachi had been doing for much of the past week, she took the girl in her arms and let her cry.

Anna did not cry for as long as Malachi expected, nor as long as she was entitled to given the circumstances. She was a hardy soul. Once she adapted to life outside of Karse, Malachi thought the girl would flourish.

"When am I leaving?" Anna asked quietly, still sniffling a little.

Lillian produced a handkerchief. "Probably tomorrow night," she answered quietly. Malachi stifled a gasp. So soon! "It will be harder to hide two people in my rooms for long. And I have a few things I need to get for your departure."

"How do you plan on getting us out of here?" Malachi inquired gently.

Lillian flashed an enigmatic smile. "Leave that to me. I've had a few plans to plan this. I have a good idea how to get you both outside of the city. Darvin can meet us there?"

_:Yes.: _

"Yes," Malachi relayed.

"Good. This should work, then."

Malachi waited a moment. "Planning on explaining your master plan?" he asked finally.

"Tomorrow night," Lillian said. "I still have a couple of things to acquire, and I doubt very much you will be overly fond of what I'm planning."

"Why not?" he asked apprehensively.

"It isn't dangerous, but it will probably make you uncomfortable." She refused to say anything more on the subject.

_:It worries me that she won't say what she plans for tomorrow night.:_

_:Come on, Darvin, you can't seriously think she has something sinister up her sleeve after all this time!: _Malachi responded, exasperated.

_:Well, no, but a second perspective could find anything she might have overlooked,: _Darvin informed him.

_:And after everything she has done so far, do you really think she's likely to overlook anything? Besides, she would be more conversant with all the doings around the Temple, and where to find the cracks she wants us to slip through. If anything, I would just get in the way.: _

Four and a half weeks had given Malachi plenty of time to learn a great deal about the Sun Temple from Lillian, but by no means did that mean he knew enough to get even just himself out without a fuss. He would be more likely to opt for speed over stealth because he was certain to trip an alarm _somewhere_. And he would not want to risk any attempt he might make at getting Anna out with him. His own life he was willing to risk, but never a child's. Especially when Lillian said she had a plan that would get them both out. Even if she was irritatingly close-mouthed about that plan. What was he supposed to be uncomfortable about?

_I guess I'll find out tomorrow night, won't I?_

Anna curled up on the pallet in the "closet" that Malachi had abandoned; he had been sharing Lillian's bed since he had woken up in it with her and a hangover. The priestess had given every indication of wanting his company, and as far as Malachi was concerned, the feeling was mutual.

Of the three of them, Anna probably got the most sleep. If this was to be their last night together, Malachi didn't want to waste it. Neither, evidently, did Lillian .


	9. Chapter 9

"How are you doing?" Malachi asked.

"Fine, I guess," the little girl replied tentatively.

"I know it's a lot to take in at once. I suspect you're handling it better than I did."

_:_She_ never had to worry about being captured by the Sunpriests. _She_ never had to face captivity and torture and death at the hands of her greatest enemies. She _should_ be handling it better.:_

_:They tried to kill her. Now she's going to live in what she believed to be Demon-land. That's a lot for a ten-year-old to take in,: _Malachi objected.

_:It is one thing to be going somewhere you thought had demons, but actually doesn't. It is another matter entirely to wake up in the hands of someone who does in fact command demons. Especially when the aforementioned person has no reason to help you and every reason to want you dead – or in a great deal of pain. She has it _easy._:_

_:Come now, Darvin. Surely you see the parallels here. Anna thought we were evil, found out we aren't, and now is coming to live with us. I thought Sunpriests were evil, found out Lillian isn't, and lived with her for the past moon.:_

_:Yes, but we never tried to kill Anna. And most Sunpriests _are_ evil. So I stand by my point, Anna has it easy.:_

_:I didn't have everything I thought I knew about the world revealed to be incorrect. _She _ did. Accepting that one person breaks the mold is nothing compared to learning you had the wrong mold the whole time.:_

_:True. Very true. She _is_ handling this rather well, I suppose,: _Darvin finally agreed.

"We're really leaving tonight?"

"Yeah," he told Anna. "Just as soon as your aunt gets back with whatever it is she thinks we need." He flashed her a smile. "Once she explains her plan for getting us out of the Temple undetected, I can call Darvin, and we can be on our way."

He picked up on her wince and accurately guessed its cause. "He's not a demon, you know. Nor am I. Nor is there anyone in Valdemar as far as I am aware."

"I know," she replied quickly. "It's just – I can't just forget everything I've been taught." She ducked her head and traced the lines on the table with her fingertips.

"No one is asking you to. We just want you to keep an open mind. I know your aunt is more than a little odd, but do you really think she would have let me stay here for as long as I have if she considered me an enemy? Do you really think she would entrust _you_ to my care if she thought I was a demon or associated with them? Hmm?"

"I – suppose not," she said hesitantly.

"Lillian is not _that_ crazy."

She laughed a little at that, but the apprehension didn't leave her expression.

He met her eyes. "When she learned what the Sunpriests intended for you, she came back to her rooms and started crying. She sobbed that she was a failure, that she had failed to protect you. Does that sound like someone who would send you off with a demon or to demons?"

"No." She looked up at him. "She really thought she was a failure? After everything she's done? She's done so much, though! How can she think she's a failure?"

"Because she expects too much of herself. A part of her wishes she could save everyone, but she can't. No one can. But your aunt is stubborn, and so she refuses to admit that there are some she cannot save. She would save them all if she could. And she would die trying given half a chance." Perhaps he had put a little too much feeling into his words.

"But – if she died, who would save the ones like me?"

"A good question. It's a good thing she knows she knows to be careful." He took a breath to steady himself. Then he smiled. "It's your move."

_:You're going easy on her.:_

_: She's not exactly the most comfortable around me._ And_ I was playing hinds and hounds before she was born. _Of course _I'm going easy on her. After she has some more experience with the game, _then _I'll start taking advantage of any poor moves she might make. For now, I'll be nice, and try not to beat her too quickly.:_

Darvin gave a mental snort. _:You're getting soft in your old age, Chosen. A month of convalescence and you're losing your hardened edge.:_

_:Oh? And who was it that was worrying Anna wouldn't find the ride north comfortable? I believe I heard something about that nondescript saddle you have not being the one you would have picked if you'd only known we were bringing a guest out of Karse with us?:_

_:I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about,: _Darvin protested innocently.

_:Of course not, I must have imagined it.:_

_:Exactly. Was your head injured in your capture, Chosen? Head wounds can sometimes cause hallucinations. Maybe you should have the priestess check you out again before you leave. On the other hand – you might like that _too_ much. I would like you to leave sometime tonight, as you had planned.:_

Malachi had a hard time keeping a straight face. Fortunately Anna was intently studying the game board, so she didn't notice.

They were just finishing up the game when they heard the amplified footsteps indicating Lillian's return. She had an even, purposeful stride that Malachi had had a moon to become familiar with. Anna had been startled by the footsteps earlier in the day, so Malachi had taken a moment to explain. He remembered that day, not so very long ago, when _he_ was the one listening to the explanation. The world could change a lot in a month.

Lillian entered bearing a bundle of clothing, some of which she tossed to Malachi. "Here. Put those on. You'll need to wear that tonight."

Malachi caught it out of reflex. He stared at the clothing she had thrown him. It was black. He raised his eyes to stare at Lillian. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him to dispute her choice of wardrobe. "Few would question a Black-robe Sunpriest, Kai. Even one leaving the Temple grounds with a child in tow."

"So why aren't you doing this?" He did _not_ want to put on a Black Robe. His preferred uniform was at the absolute other end of the color spectrum.

"A Sun_priest_ in the company of a child is less likely to be questioned than a Priest_ess_ of the same rank," she answered somberly.

Malachi stiffened. He glanced at the clothing in his hands, then at Anna, then back at Lillian. "That sort of thing happen often?" he asked, no hint of his thoughts in his tone. He would be ineffectual as a spy if he couldn't conceal his emotions, even if he suspected Lillian was much better at it than he would ever be.

"Often enough," Lillian responded in her mask-voice. "Less often once I find out about it."

"What difference would that make?"

Lillian gave a predatory grin that had Malachi repressing the urge to shiver. "The Sunpriests might have to rethink how they think of me if they knew how many I led into Vkandis' arms," she said darkly. "Fortunately, there are a great many more prominent rivals than me, so when a Sunpriest with less-than-savory habits dies unexpectedly, I am rarely considered a viable suspect."

_:Very dangerous,: _Darvin commented. _:Glad she's on our side.:_

Malachi couldn't help but agree with his Companion. Lillian was every bit as dangerous as her Robe indicated. She was extremely subtle, however, and exceptionally good at deception, so it often passed unnoticed. He kept forgetting how dangerous she could be, the reminder that was her clothing aside. Until she did something to remind him. Like this. To _survive_ amongst the Sunpriests as she did was nothing short of miraculous, and to have been able to _eliminate_ some of the powerful, dangerous Sunpriests – did not bear thinking about.

Lillian was very, _very_ powerful. If she wasn't one of most powerful Sunpriests, it was only because she did not want to be recognized as such, not because she wasn't. Malachi was absolutely certain that he was in the presence of one of the strongest people in all of Karse. The amount of power it took to _mask_ that power was even more astonishing. Malachi didn't know how she did it.

He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know.

Anna was wide-eyed. She looked at the two of them with more than a little bit of shock, and a touch of horror. Twenty-four candlemarks were not nearly enough for anyone, even a child, to completely alter their world view. So, yes, the girl was going to be horrified by them discussing the murder of those who still, in her mind, retained some of their former position as upright pillars of authority, regardless of everything she had just learned about the true nature of the Sunpriests. Thankfully she was oblivious to the undercurrent of their words.

"All right, then. I guess I had better go get changed." He ducked into the adjoining room to swap his nondescript brown garments for the notorious Black Robes. Malachi caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused to examine his appearance. Border-bred though he might be, he didn't _quite_ have the sharp lines of standard Karsite features. His hair was the brown that was as common as dirt, and similar to it in color, a trifle lighter than Lillian's. Green eyes weren't overly abundant in Karse, but overall there was nothing that would set him apart.

_:Especially not when anyone you meet would be more concerned with your Robe than your face,: _Darvin aptly remarked.

_:True. The Robe is all the average person notices. And since it's _not done_ to impersonate a Sunpriest, anyone wearing a Robe, _must_ be one.:_

A mental snort echoed down their bond. _:No one in their right mind would try to impersonate a Sunpriest. If they got caught . . . : _Darvin's mind-voice trailed off, implying all the terrible things the Sunpriests would do to an imposter. Death would probably be a mercy.

_:Thankfully it will only be for a few candlemarks, and I have a _real_ Black-robe to back me up or bail me out, should it come to that.:_

_:When did knowing a Karsite Black-robe become a _good_ thing?: _Darvin asked entreatingly, with more than a hint of incredibility in his tone.

Malachi tried unsuccessfully to smother a snicker. _:About a moon ago. Do try to keep up, Four-Foot.:_

_:Four-Foot? Hmph. How about I make you walk home? Who would have trouble keeping up _then_, Fire-bait?:_

_:You are never going to let me live that down, are you?:_

_:Of course not. You lived, and scared the manure out of me in the process. Therefore I get to nag you about it for all of eternity. Learn to live with it, Chosen.:_

He chuckled. _:Hey, like you said, I lived. I survived the Sunpriests. I can deal with anything that comes after that.:_

When he returned, wearing the Black Robes and a smile, Lillian was filling Anna's head with more bits of information about a more realistic view of Karse and Valdemar.

" – aren't demons," she repeated. "Heralds are well thought of in Valdemar, and Companions are very special, generally benevolent creatures."

"Like Firecats," Anna agreed.

_I probably should have listened to more of the stories about Firecats, _Malachi realized. Clearly relating Companions to Firecats was a comparison that Anna could understand. Likely it could resonate in other Karsites as well. If they could possibly spread that analogy . . .

_:I am _not_ a Valdemaran Firecat,: _Darvin said with indignation. _:I am a Companion.:_

_:Of course . . . Mouse-Catcher.:_

As Darvin sputtered at him, Lillian recalled his attention to the room. "What's so amusing?"

"Hmm?" He found Lillian was looking at him with a fond expression on her face.

"What're you smiling about? I could use a laugh."

"Oh. Just Darvin. He's taking exception to being compared to a cat."

_:That would be putting it mildly.:_

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "A Firecat isn't _just _a cat. They are avatars of Vkandis, often believed to be former Sons of the Sun returned to give aid and advice."

Avatars of Vkandis? Returned Sons of the Sun? A glimmer of an idea began to take form in his mind, but Darvin broke into his train of thought.

_:Well, in that case, I suppose I shouldn't object _too _much about the comparison. It is flattering after all.:_

Being compared to a –

_:Although, I would suppose since Vkandis hasn't made His presence felt in a while, Firecats are in short supply.:_

_:You're probably right,: _Malachi agreed. _:All she's mentioned are _legends_ of Firecats, all of which predate even Vanyel.: _Now what had he been thinking? Oh well. Malachi figured it probably wasn't important anyway.

"You can – talk to – Darvin?" Anna asked, a little timidly. Lillian's staunch comments and her repetitive comparisons of "Hell-Horses" to familiar Karsite legends could only do so much in the short time; after everything, the child was still hesitant about Companions.

"Darvin is just as intelligent as you and I. in fact, to hear him tell it, he's _more _intelligent."

_:That sounds about right.:_

"He . . . he talks in my head. It's called Mindspeech, the ability to speak with your mind instead of just your mouth. Real imaginative name, I know. There are two forms of Mindspeech: Thoughtsensing, being able to _hear_ other people, and Projection, where you _project_ your thoughts to let someone else hear you. Most of the names are self-explanatory."

"As far as I can ascertain," Lillian put in, "all of the Heraldic Gifts are comparable to abilities within the Priesthood, and most of the so-called "witch-powers" are no different either."

Anna gave an awkward nod. Poor child! She hesitated for a moment, before finding the courage to ask, "What happens to me when we get to – Valdemar?"

"I promised your aunt I'd look after you, so I thought I'd enroll you in classes at the Collegia in Haven." The look of blank confusion had him explaining further. "In the middle of Haven, there's the Palace and the three Collegia, Bardic, Healer's, and Heraldic. There are also the various gardens and the river and the Companion's Field and the stables, but those are fairly standard. The only way into the Heraldic Collegium is to be Chosen by a Companion, to have one Companion pick you out and bond with you. Healer's and Bardic are open to those with interest and talent, not use the Gifted. Because in addition to the Heraldic Gifts are the Healing Gift and the Bardic Gift."

Lillian looked like she wanted to ask something, but it seemed as though she couldn't find the words. She shook her head and he continued.

"Within the three Collegia, we like to color-code people. Herald wear white, Herald Trainees wear grey. Healers wear green, Bards wear scarlet, and their trainees wear pale green and rust, respectively. But there are also students at the Collegia who are not directly connected to any of the three. Those are the Unaffiliated students, also called Blues, because they wear blue. The Blues take most of the same classes, but they are usually there with a sponsor, whether that is because they have an aptitude or because they have family at the Court. So I thought I would enroll you as a Blue, and then we could take it from there."

Anna considered this. "What sort of classes would I have to take?" If Malachi detected a hint of suspicion in her question, it was perfectly understandable and he let it pass.

"Well, technically, you wouldn't _have_ to take anything. Healer, Herald, and Bard trainees are _required_ to take classes because they are all following more-or-less standard curricula. Blues, on the other hand, are just there because someone they know thought they should get the benefit of classes that were already available. The classes include everything from Equestrian and Weaponry to Geography and History, with specialized ones for Gifts and other skills the Trainees will need. The only classes you have to attend are the ones you want to."

Anna was surprised by this, which – again – was perfectly understandable. Lillian had not gone into detail on the schooling the children in the Cloisters took, but she had said enough. It was not difficult to realize the children were given no choice in the selection of their classes. Their lessons were whatever the priests thought they had an aptitude for or should take.

"What about – language?" she asked.

He smiled gently. "I'm not the only Herald who speaks Karsite. We'll work on your language skills first, before getting you started on anything else."

"Valdemaran syntax is different from what we're familiar with, but it wasn't so bad to learn," Lillian added. "Malachi spent most of the past month teaching me. Once you get past the syntax, it gets much easier." She gave her niece a conspiratorial smile and stage-whispered, "Their sentence structure is as backward as they are."

Anna smiled at that.

"You'll do fine in Valdemar, my dear," Lillian said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I have faith. Faith in you, faith in Malachi, and most of all, faith in the Sunlord. You will do well in Valdemar."

_So would you,_ Malachi wanted to say, but he held his tongue. She had made her choice, as had he. Neither one would change their mind; they both felt their responsibilities too strongly to be able to relinquish their duties.

"Are you sure?" Anna clearly wanted reassurance at uprooting everything she thought she knew about the world.

"As sure as I can be. You have a strength of spirit that will serve you well in adapting to the challenges of life. Karse is being – badly mishandled by our leaders. Your light would be snuffed out here; they have already tried. Valdemar might not be perfect, but I believe it will be better than Karse. I trust Malachi; he will take care of you. Your strength and your light – and your life – will be allowed to flourish and grow in Valdemar. You'll be safe, and I sincerely hope you will be happy."

Anna jumped up and hugged her aunt.


	10. Chapter 10

There was an eerie emptiness to the corridors. Or perhaps the eerie was just in her head. Few people were about at this hour. Lillian knew, however, that if she turned down _that_ hallway, made a left, and went up two flights she would encounter people. She didn't _want_ to encounter them, though, didn't particularly like associating with them even by the light of day. Maybe that was why the empty halls seemed eerie – because she knew the type of people who frequented these halls.

Empty was good. Empty meant no one to notice her passage, or the passage of the two who discreetly followed some distance behind her. Empty meant no curious eyes or raised suspicions.

This was not the first time she had walked these halls at such an hour, nor was it likely to be the last. A mark after midnight was not a common time to walk the halls, but it was a convenient time for those who do not wish to attract attention. Of course, that meant if anyone _did_ notice, it _would_ attract attention. Even still, those who might be about would not be inclined to make a scene.

Thankfully, though, Lillian did not encounter anything more dangerous than a cat. It was with great relief that she met up with Malachi and Anna outside Sunhame.

"Any problems?" she asked.

"None," Mal replied. "You gave us excellent directions."

"And Darvin?"

"On his way."

"Good." Was it good? Lillian squashed the thought. Yes, yes it was good. They couldn't stay here, no matter how much she might want them to.

They stood on the edge of a cluster of pine trees where an observer would have a difficult time locating them. They waited in an awkward silence. None of the three felt comfortable breaking the tense, pensive silence. Lillian had long practice in standing silent and still, but Anna had not. The girl shifted nervously from one leg to another, grinding the fallen needles beneath her feet. Pine was a more pleasant scent than some of the incense Lillian had been exposed to.

Malachi suddenly looked alert, turning to face the northeast. Anna and Lillian turned as well. A white shape wound its way through the trees. Lillian found herself more than a little mesmerized by the approach of the ghostly horse. Intrigued and curious, Lillian slipped into other-sight.

The Companion _glowed_. Blue and ethereal, the Companion was like nothing Lillian had ever seen before – and was as from the night-walkers as it was possible to be. Transfixed, Lillian gasped in recognition. That was _not_ an earthly creature. Ethereal was right. It was a Guardian Spirit. Companions were Guardian Spirits. The Sunpriests had their people convinced that _Guardian Spirits_ were _demons_. Oh, Sunlord. How could anyone be so blind as to actually believe that? Anyone who just _saw_ them – they _had_ to know –

_Oh, I was right. They are like Firecats. I was right to trust him. I was right to trust my instincts, to believe they could not be as the Sunpriests portrayed them. I was right to trust Anna into their keeping. Oh, Vkandis, thank you. There is hope again. I have hope._

The radiant creature stopped in front of her. The blue aura shone; to her Mage-sight its power shone through the skin. Lillian stared in awe as the Spirit lowered its head and she met its deep sapphire gaze.

_:I am sorry,: _a male voice said, the words overlain with feelings of guilt and remorse. It reached for her mind and –

Lillian blinked. A white horse stood before her.

Malachi stepped forward. "Lillian, Anna, this is Darvin," he said, laying a hand on the Companion's neck.

"He's beautiful," Lillian replied in awe. She didn't need her Sight to know this was no demon. More than a horse, yes, but he could not remotely be a demon. She knew this with a certainty that surprised her. "May I?" she asked, reaching out a hand. The not-horse bobbed his head in acknowledgement and Lillian patted his neck.

Anna looked at the Companion with trepidation. Lillian reached a hand out to her niece, who took it hesitantly. Lillian drew the girl slowly toward the Companion. Darvin lowered his head and lipped the girl's sleeve. Anna raised a tentative hand. Darvin bumped it with his nose.

Lillian stifled a laugh as the Companion connived to get a scratch from a girl quickly losing her fear. Darvin whickered and Anna let out a giggle.

"He's not so scary," Anna remarked.

Malachi chuckled. "There are some brigands who probably wouldn't agree." He paused to consider for a moment. "And I know a couple of gardeners who will swear the Companions terrorize the Palace gardens." Darvin snorted and shook his head vigorously. Anna giggled again.

Darvin stomped a foreleg and Malachi turned serious again. "We have a lot of distance to cover, and we're going to have to travel under cover." He took a long breath before continuing. "It won't be quick, so I think we had better be going."

Anna's face dropped. She turned and threw her arms around Lillian. "You really can't come with us?" she asked, looking up at her aunt.

Lillian shook her head, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I have to stay here. Someone has to look out for the people here." She met Malachi's eyes. "I – I will miss you. Be careful." Darvin swished his tail. She bent down to give Anna a strong hug.

Standing up, she saw Malachi with a bunch of long, fine, white strands in his hands, braiding them. He made quick work of them and presented Lillian with a bracelet. "It was Darvin's idea," he admitted as she accepted it. It was made of horsehair. Companion-hair. Lillian couldn't speak.

"Thank you," she managed. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, an idea struck her. "It might be easier to travel through Karse without a white horse."

Malachi chuckled. "That it would be, but it is considerably quicker than travelling by foot. Darvin is also a bit faster than ordinary horses."

"What if Darvin wasn't white?"

"Dye has been tried. It doesn't work; it bleaches out too quickly," Malachi said, shaking his head.

"Not dye," Lillian suggested. "M-magic." The word stuck in her throat, but she pushed it out. "Illusion," she continued. "I can make Darvin look a different color, temporarily." _At least I think I can_. There was a nagging doubt that the Companion was beyond her. A Valdemaran Firecat. _Would I attempt an illusion on a Firecat?_

"You can do that?" Malachi asked slowly.

"Yes," Lillian replied, more confidently that she felt. Did she have the range to get the illusion to the border? To hold it long enough for them to get there? She glanced over at the Companion and met Darvin's blue eyes. He nodded. _Okay then_.

"It _would_ be easier without a big white horse in Karse," Malachi agreed. "Darvin thinks it is a good idea. Do it."

Illusions were easy. Constructing the illusion was no problem. Getting it to settle on the Companion was another story. The Companion's residual magic was . . . unusual. It resisted her, pulsing blue . . . swirling blue . . . as blue as his eyes . . . the sapphire eyes . . .

Something reached out, brushing against her mind and taking hold of the illusion.

Lillian gasped and opened her eyes, not sure when she had closed them. Malachi stood beside a dark brown horse with three white socks and a stripe on his nose that crossed his left ear. Darvin shook himself vigorously and Malachi stared at him with a look of confusion on his face.

"Can all Sunpriests do that?" Kai asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Not all have the Gift for it, but those who do are limited by range, same as any Gift. I don't really know if I can hold that to the border," she admitted.

But Malachi shook his head. "Darvin says he can bolster _whatever_ it is you've done. And he can make it go away when we get there. Good to know Companions can hold their own against the Sunpriests' abilities," he said with a smile. If his eyes were slightly confused and out of focus as he conversed with his Companion, Lillian didn't notice as she tried to clear her own head.

_That should not have happened. _But it had. And whatever it was, it certainly seemed to have worked. _That's what I get for trying to illusion a Valdemaran Firecat. _When had she started thinking of Companions as Valdemaran Firecats? She shrugged it off; probably while trying to convince Anna of that comparison to ease her fears.

At least _that_ had worked. Anna wasn't afraid of Darvin; she had even lost that hint of fear at the prospect of going to Valdemar. The so-called "Hell-Horses" had lost their ability to terrify the girl into submission. _Good_. Anna had relaxed, and that put Lillian at ease. She wanted her niece to be happy, she wanted her niece to be safe. Malachi and Valdemar could make that happen. She _knew_ it, she _felt _it, with an absolute certainty that startled her. She didn't understand her strong conviction, but she trusted it, she trusted Vkandis.

"I . . . uh, I guess we should be on our way," Malachi said awkwardly.

Lillian gave a stiff nod.

Anna turned to her. "You really can't come with us?" she asked again.

Lillian shook her head sadly. She was _not_ going to cry. "Someone has to stay and help the people here. There's no one else to do it."

Anna nodded, once. Then she ran up to wrap her arms around her aunt. "Be safe," she said with a solemnity beyond her years. "Thank you for everything."

Anna released her, to be replaced by Malachi. Mal brushed the tears from her cheeks. "What she said," he told her. Then he kissed her, and Lillian found herself clinging to him, not wanting to let go, though she knew she had to.

"I will miss you," he said finally.

Lillian nodded. "Very much," she agreed in a shaky voice.

Darvin stomped his foreleg. A rueful expression crossed Mal's face.

"I know," he said. "We have to go."

Lillian nodded again. "Be safe," she said as Mal swung himself onto Darvin's back. She helped Anna up behind him.

"I love you, Aunt Lillian."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Be safe, and be happy."

"You too, Aunt Lillian."

Lillian managed a smile. She stroked Darvin's nose. The Companion flicked an ear towards her. "Keep them safe. Please."

Darvin nodded.

"Go," Lillian said. "Go fast, but be safe. You have a long way to go, and it is not safe for you here. Ride for the Border, and don't look back."

Darvin nodded again and began to walk. He picked up the pace and settled into a ground-eating gallop that normal horses could not sustain past a few minutes at most. Lillian stood watching the trio race northward. Darvin didn't look back. But Anna did, and so did Malachi.

They merged into the shadows of the night, a brown horse with a black mane, a Black-robed man, and a brown clothed girl. Lillian kept watching until she could no longer imagine the shadows along their path moving. The night was empty, but for wildlife. As if on cue, an owl called out.

Lillian turned and began the walk back to the Temple. It was quiet, this late. Nobody bothered a Black Robe, not even the guards. The few people out this late took pains to keep out of her way. The cat in the Temple Gardens, however, didn't particularly care the rank of the person who was in its path. The tabby scowled at her when she almost tripped over it.

Lillian stroked the back of his head and the cat settled down. "Little fur-ball," she scolded endearingly. "You almost trip me, and then I feel bad that I almost stepped on you. You little fishbone, you." She recognized the cat. It was a friendly creature she had seen around the Temple – and had deliberately _not_ seen in the Children's Cloister. (It was amazing how often things "got into" her eyes.) The children _definitely did not_ call him Reulan.

Lillian picked him up and kissed the top of his head. "Come on, Reulan. I have some leftover fish from dinner."

The tabby looked up at her with his deep blue eyes and purred.

Lillian released Reulan upon reaching her room. As the tabby slipped from her arms, her composure slipped as well.

She had held out until the door closed behind her, but only just. That she kept her composure by only the slimmest of margins showed her just how fragile her walls could be.

_It shouldn't – hurt – this much. They're safe, both of them. I should be happy. And instead all I can think of is that they're gone – and I'm alone. Again._

She heard the lock snap and let herself slump against the door. She was grateful for all the work and energy she'd put into her shields – it meant that even if someone was standing right outside the door they wouldn't hear her crying.

She'd cried more this past month than she had in years. And the last time she had let someone _see_ her cry had been well over a decade ago. It would probably be another decade before it happened again.

There was nothing of this past month that Lillian would change for the world. It was uncontestably the best month of her life since coming to the Sun Temple. She didn't remember her life before that too clearly; she had only been six after all.

She never gave herself a chance to open up to anyone – it was too dangerous. The children she saved from Cleansing saw a side of her no one else ever could, but it was too dangerous for them to stay more than a day or two after their "death."

Malachi – he _couldn't _leave. The best she could do for broken bones was immobilize them. She had a sizeable "reach" for her abilities, but it was nowhere near far enough to have gotten him into Valdemar. Illusions were simpler than her magical splints, and less risky to maintain over distances. Even illusions cast to disguise a white "horse" in a land where white was considered a color strongly associated with demons. Darvin's ambient energies had initially resisted her casting, but she got the sense he was bolstering her illusion. Valdemaran Firecat, indeed. _How_ Darvin had managed to take hold of her illusion she wasn't sure, but _whatever_ Companions were, they were powerful.

And illusions were easy.

Resignedly, Lillian pulled herself to her feet and walked over to her hanging mirror. She was too tired to reflect on the extravagant expense of it as she usually did, too bone-weary tired. Her reflection didn't _look_ tired, but then she was very practiced at not showing weakness. Even when she was alone. It was truly remarkable she had let Malachi in as much as she had.

But she hadn't shown him everything. Some things were just too ingrained. Some things she had maintained for so long she no longer thought about them.

Lillian stared at her reflection in the mirror. A hawk-eyed, grey-eyed woman stared back. She unbraided her hair and ran her fingers through the long dark brown strands, letting it hang loosely around her shoulders. She glanced at the white bracelet on her wrist. She had told Malachi in the beginning, part of what she did was illusion. She just had not informed him just how much a part they were. Illusions were so simple. With a tired sigh she dropped hers.

She studied at the woman in the mirror. The last time she had released her illusion had been over a year ago, when she had received her Black Robes. She had not seen herself as she truly appeared in all that time. She had not changed much in that time, however. There was only one thing different about her appearance without the illusion. She fingered her hair. It was as white as her Companion-hair bracelet.

She knew working with the energies of the nodes bleached color from a mage. She had trained herself to have a feather-light touch, so although she tapped into the nodes often, her workings did not attract attention. In fact, she usually tapped a node several times in short durations to reduce the ripples she left behind.

She had been born with grey eyes, so the nodes had little noticeable effect on them. Her hair on the other hand –

She had to admit, the woman in the mirror was striking. Sharp features, black robes, grey eyes, white hair. She looked like an artist's rendition of a woman of light and shadow. In the pale blue glow of her mage-lights her skin appeared colorless. _She_ looked colorless, a portrait in grey-scale.

The last time she had dropped her illusion was when she had received the Black Robes. That had been when she first noticed there wasn't a single brown hair left on her head. All the color had been bleached from her. The time before then had been when she had gotten the Red Robes. At that time, about half of her roots had still been brown, if a lighter shade of brown than originally.

Only a few of the older Black- and Red-robes exhibited completely white hair, and that could be as much from aging as it was from magic-induced bleaching. Of course some of the others could be glamouring their appearance like she was.

Twenty four was overly young to have full bleach-out. Then again, twenty four was also young to have earned the Black Robes. Both had occurred over a year ago. She had noticed her first white roots growing in around the time she had gotten her web working. She had used the nodes a considerable amount then, but she hadn't expected to start losing color so quickly. It seemed that once it started, the bleaching had progressed faster and faster. Now her hair was as white as Darvin.

She found she liked that thought.

Oh Sunlord, how much she missed Malachi and Anna, and they had only just left! She wouldn't mind a few more reminders of them. She couldn't let herself forget that _somewhere_ life was better, somewhere they were safe. Somewhere there was someone who cared about her, who saw more than the black taint of the Black Robes.

She blinked rapidly. She couldn't cry. They were gone and life had to return to its standard rhythms. She needed to compose herself, completely, as she had repeatedly over the years. Fragile walls would not withstand the rigors of her life – and those walls _were_ her life.

She looked at her bracelet again. As much as she loved it, it was a dangerous token. She stroked the white hairs again, before reluctantly pulling one out of the neat braid. She tangled the loose Companion-hair in the fringe of the _Flamedancer_ tapestry. She doubted either Porphyr or the equally long dead artisan would mind. With a grimace, Lillian buried the remainder of the bracelet in the soil of the potted plant on her desk.

No one would know the significance of the plants she kept, the firestone in memory of the victims of the Cleansings and the kitten-paw in memory of the Herald of Valdemar she befriended. Kitten-paw was a "peasant" flower; it was as common as dirt and would grow anywhere. It was also an effective remedy for headaches, which was why _she_ kept some.

Lillian watered both plants, lingering over the kitten-paw. "Be safe," she whispered.

Reulan meowed.

"Alright, alright. I did promise you dinner, didn't I?"


	11. Chapter 11

Two announcements:

I thought I mentioned it in chapter 8, but in case you missed it, this is set around two hundred years after Vanyel's death.

This might be a good place to end it. I can continue the story if you want, but be prepared because everything after this gets really long and really complicated. Let me know what you think.

* * *

><p>Gallin knew he'd been on duty too long when he thought he saw the shadows move.<p>

It wasn't his shift; it was supposed to be Drew's shift. But Drew's wife had gone into labor, so Gallin agreed to take his watch. Normally Gallin was on guard during the day, so Drew's late night shift was certainly not what he was used to.

Not to mention new Guards had been stationed at Cordor recently and the veterans had taken to "instructing" them. Gallin had undergone the same himself six years ago. He had long since grown accustomed to the tales of evil Karsites and their demons, or so he thought. But Cordor was just a stone's throw from the border, practically, and when you're tired, ridiculous notions start sounding credible.

So when Gallin finally admitted he _wasn't _seeing things and that the shadows _were_ moving, he started remembering all those stories about the Karsite demons.

A large shadow separated from the darkness – but then it resolved itself into two figures on a white horse. As the horse walked closer, Gallin could see it carried a man and a girl, both wearing dark clothing and looking travel worn.

"Hey, Anna," the man said gently, in Karsite, "wake up, sweetheart. We're here."

"Where's here?" the girl asked groggily in the same language.

"Uh . . . Cordor? Really? Huh. This is the Cordor Guard Post. Welcome to Valdemar, Anna," the man told her. There was quiet a moment before he continued. "Wait. Cordor? You mean – Alex? You called Alex? I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing."

"Who is Alex?" the girl asked.

"A very good friend of mine."

"Is he – "

"A Herald? Yes, he is. And he has this Sector for, uh, Jerem's Internship Ride, I believe."

Gallin was not proud of the fact that it was only than that the thought that the big white horse might be a Companion occurred to him. Although it certainly explained the odd conversation. Enough Heralds passed through Cordor that their reputation for seemingly talking to thin air was known. So he wasn't completely taken off guard when the horse came up to the gate and the man introduced himself as Herald Malachi Rowen.

The girl was simply "Anna," with no family name given, but if she wasn't Karsite, he was a donkey's mother. She was equally obviously under the protection of the Herald. Anyone who was stationed at Cordor for more than a year and failed to recognize "Heralds' business" was a hopeless dunderhead. Gallin wasn't a hopeless dunderhead.

If Herald Malachi wanted to pretend Anna was an ordinary little girl, Gallin wasn't going to contradict him. Even if Gallin was willing to bet money the Herald had rescued her from being fire-fodder. Travel worn, not in uniform, and coming from the south? Freshly back from Karse. But anyone with an incautious tongue about Heralds' business was a hopeless dunderhead.

So Gallin didn't comment as he directed the group to the stable and helped the exhausted child dismount. Gallin turned to leave as Herald Malachi began to groom his Companion. He was caught in the stable however by the incoming pair of Heralds and Companions.

The elder of the men rushed past him to clasp Malachi in a hug. "You are overdue," the Herald said, breaking away. "And what in the nine hells are you wearing?"

Gallin found himself glancing at Malachi's travel worn garb. Under the dirt and the wear it almost looked like . . . priest's robes?

Malachi shrugged. "It's a long story." As if on cue, the girl yawned, drawing the attention of the two recently arrived Heralds. Noticing their regard, she hunched her shoulders and moved closer to Malachi.

Heralds' business, Gallin reminded himself. Stifling his curiosity he slipped past the Heralds to return to his gate.

Herald Alexander Ornell noted the Guardsman's departure without taking his eyes off of his year-mate._ Why is everything always a "long story"?_

_:Because Heralds lack the ability to do anything simply,:_ Ariel told him helpfully. _:And men in general make things more complicated than necessary.:_

Alex didn't respond to his Companion. "Going to introduce your friend?" he asked Malachi.

"This is Anna," his friend replied. "Anna, this is Alex and Jerem. Their Companions are Ariel and Rilyn." Malachi then repeated the introduction in Karsite.

"It is good you to meet," Anna said in halting Valdemaran.

When it became obvious that an explanation was not forthcoming from Kai, Alex began to groom Ariel.

_:Darvin is being curiously close-lipped,: _she remarked.

_:Of course he is. Why would we want to know why in the nine damned hells Kai is wearing a priest's robe? I can see not wearing his uniform, but a _priest's robe_?:_

"I lost my uniform," Malachi said aloud.

Alex glared at his Companion. Ariel merely snagged a mouthful of hay and swished her tail. "You can borrow one of mine," Alex offered.

"Much appreciated."

"I suppose I have to wait until after you've bathed to get that 'long story' out of you?"

Malachi grinned. "Of course. And we need dinner. Anna's aunt would never forgive me if I let her niece waste away from lack of food. Not a woman you want to get on the wrong side of."

Anna frowned, trying to follow the Valdemaran conversation. "Aunt Lillian angry at you would not get."

"She would get angry if I did not take good care of you," Malachi said slowly. He repeated his words in Karsite.

"No," Anna said stubbornly. "You she likes. At you angry she would not get."

"Would it be easier to just talk in Karsite?" Alex asked in Karsite.

Anna bit her lip and shook her head. "To speak Valdemaran learn I must. Here now I stay. For me Karse safe not is."

Alex personally thought he was going to go cross-eyed trying to make sense of her backward sentences.

_:Maybe that would be a good look for you.:_

_:Thank you for that lovely compliment, Ariel.:_

_:Would you rather argue with a child? She might delight in making you cross-eyed.:_

Alex didn't try to argue with that. His seven year old niece practically delighted in being perverse at every opportunity. If Mellany could do it, he could hardly expect less from Anna. Especially when the girl had already established herself as stubborn.

Alex roped in his curiosity and his impatience while the Companions were groomed, and the humans were bathed and dressed. When the four of them were having dinner in a private room he decided enough was enough.

"Ready to explain?"

"Explain what?" Malachi asked innocently.

Alex glared at his friend. "You can start with Anna, or what happened to your uniform, or why you're late, or maybe why Darvin won't say anything to Ariel?"

Jerem pretended to be intent on his food. Anna frowned as she caught her name and tried to follow the Valdemaran words.

"Anna was almost fire-fodder," Kai admitted. "Her aunt saved her."

"Aunt Lillian is amazing. Also lonely," Anna added with a frown.

Kai smiled. "Amazing is a good word. Unbelievable also works. Lillian asked me to take Anna to Valdemar."

"And do what?" Alex asked. "You're a Herald; you don't have much time to look after a child."

"I'm taking her to Haven," Kai said, as if it were obvious.

"Blue I will be."

"_A _Blue," Kai corrected. "I will be _a_ Blue."

"I will be a Blue," Anna repeated dutifully. "Blue-robes are weak, not much better than novices," she added in Karsite.

Kai translated the statement into Valdemaran. Anna tried to copy him.

"How do you have a conversation like this?" Alex demanded.

"I got used to it. I taught Lillian Valdemaran; she picked it up very quickly, though. Anna is not doing so badly."

"Learning only . . . two week?" Anna asked.

"Two weeks."

Anna stuck her tongue out at Malachi.

"What would your aunt say if she saw that?"

"She . . . _would _say . . . good that of White Demons afraid I am not."

Malachi shook his head. "You are too much like your aunt. It is no wonder you had problems in Karse."

"And just who is this mysterious aunt?" Alex asked.

"Mysterious? Mysterious she is not. Aunt Lillian is . . ." Anna clamped her mouth shut, looking worriedly at Malachi.

"It's okay," Kai reassured her.

"Aunt Lillian is . . . what?" Alex prompted.

Kai hesitated. Alex felt him check for listeners. "A Sunpriestess," Kai answered.

"Are you _crazy?_" Jerem blurted out.

Anna jumped up and kicked him. "Nice you are not!"

"Anna!" Malachi scolded.

"You crazy calling not nice is," she replied primly. "Even if companion to Valdemaran Firecat he is. Not nice he is. Aunt Lillian nice is. You nice are. He nice not is."

Alex could feel his eyes crossing with every mangled sentence.

_:She is still learning our language, Chosen. _You_ weren't very good at learning languages if I recall. Weren't you the one that managed to insult the instructor?:_

_:I have no idea what you are talking about.:_

_:You don't remember the "shiny tomato" incident?:_

_:Every time I helped in the kitchen someone always tried to hand me a tomato afterwards.:_

_:I _knew_ you remembered! Now stop complaining about that girl's syntax or I will have the one of the serving girls bring you a tomato,: _Ariel warned him.

"Jerem is usually nice," Alex said aloud. "He was probably just surprised. I was too."

"Sorry I am not," the girl said unrepentant.

"You were just trying to defend your aunt, weren't you?" Anna frowned and Alex repeated himself in Karsite.

"Yes. Sad she is. Temple not a nice place is. No friends does she have. Like anyone there she does not." Alex caught Kai making a face at her. Anna grimaced. "She . . . does not . . . have . . . anyone?" Kai nodded. "The priests . . . took her . . . when . . . she was . . . much small. I think," she added. "Papa mentioned her often did not."

_:How am I supposed to get an explanation out of Kai when she takes forever to say anything?:_

_:She hasn't had more than a fortnight to learn Valdemaran, Chosen. Shall I find a tomato for you?:_

Alex sent his Companion a mental glare.

"I did not intend to imply insult," Jerem said. "But what is a Valdemaran Firecat?"

Malachi laughed. "That was Lillian's description of Companions. It was the closest comparison she could think of and Darvin thought it was similar."

"Karse has a version of Companions?" Alex wanted to know why no one had ever heard of them before.

"Uh, sort of. Firecats have strong connections to their Sunlord, but no one has seen one outside of legends in a few centuries," Kai explained.

"Vkandis' messengers Firecats are," Anna announced.

Malachi shrugged. "Lillian not got around to telling me any of the legends."

Anna turned to Kai. "About Reulan heard you have not?"

"Who's Reulan?"

She opened her mouth, frowned, closed it again and looked up at Malachi. "Can I explain in Karsite?" she whispered.

"Of course," he answered with a smile.

Anna grinned broadly. "Reulan was a simple country priest. One day while he was taking a walk, Khar warned him of a rainbow snake on the path. Reulan was very surprised to realize that a cat was speaking to him, but he was also very grateful for the warning because rainbow snakes are very dangerous. He thanked Khar and asked what he could do to repay the favor." Anna paused. "Khar wanted a _fish_," she said firmly.

"Reulan was surprised by the request and a little annoyed because Khar wanted a _fresh_ fish and the closest place for fresh fish was Sunhame. But Khar was a cat, and cats have minds of their own, and he wanted his fish. It was almost Midsummer, and Reulan hadn't been back in Sunhame in years, so he agreed. He walked all the way to Sunhame, with Khar at his side." Anna frowned a moment. "Dasin told me that Khar got bigger the closer they got, but Giry said that cats don't grow overnight. But Khar was _Vkandis' _ cat, and the statue of Khar was almost as tall as me, so I think Giry had it wrong.

"Anyway, when Reulan got to Sunhame, he learned the high priest had died several days ago and the council of priests couldn't decide who would replace him. Reulan was getting funny looks but didn't know why until he reached the Temple where the priests made a fuss. _That's_ when Reulan realized the little kitty he'd been travelling with was as tall as his waist and not an ordinary cat at all. Which is kind of silly because _of course_ Khar wasn't an ordinary cat – ordinary cats can't talk!"

_:I wonder how many cats she tried to talk to as a little?: _Ariel asked.

"Reulan recognized Khar as one of Vkandis' Cats then, and all the priests took Khar as a sign of Vkandis' will, so Reulan the simple country priest was made Son of the Sun. _Everybody_ knows the story of Reulan and Khar," Anna informed them. "The novices snuck bits of fish to all the Temple cats, even though we weren't supposed to," she admitted. "We even named one of them Reulan!"

"You were a novice?" Jerem asked. _Very _politely, Alex noticed. "Where?"

"The Sun Temple. The novices _all _go there." Anna bit her lip. "Do I have to speak Valdemaran? Aunt Lillian is right, you _do_ have a backward language."

Malachi smiled at the girl. "You are going to need to speak Valdemaran eventually, but I suppose in the interest of explaining to Alex and Jerem without trying their patience _too_ much, we can continue in Karsite for now. You still have another three weeks before we get to Haven to learn more Valdemaran."

"Okay!" she said brightly. "I was a novice at the Sun Temple for a year and a half."

"And where does your aunt come in?"

"She was there the whole time. I just never knew she was my aunt. I never talked to her before she rescued me. She rescued Malachi too! And then she explained the Sunpriests weren't very nice and taught us wrong, because the White Demons aren't demons at all."

"She rescued Malachi too?" Alex asked with raised eyebrows, looking at the Herald, not the child.

"I ran into a bit of trouble," Malachi admitted. "Lillian got me out of it."

"What kind of trouble?"

Malachi grimaced. "The kind you aren't allowed to tell anyone, either of you! And make sure Ariel and Rilyn know that too!"

_:Contrary to popular belief, Companions don't just gossip everything. We _do_ know how to keep a secret, you know. Tell Malachi my lips are sealed, pinkie promise.:_

_:If you tried to pinkie promise you'd _break_ my pinkie,: _Alex reminded his Companion.

_:It's the thought that counts_.:

Alex and Jerem relayed their Companions' promises not to share the information with anyone.

_:Except Rolan. I can't lie to Rolan.:_

"Rolan is fine," Malachi agreed.

"So you are going to tell them what you told me not to tell anyone?" Anna asked. "You already told them that Aunt Lillian's a Sunpriestess, even though you told me not to say that. _Ever."_

Malachi winced. "Yes."

"Should I leave?" Jerem asked. "I could go check on Rilyn if this is supposed to be a secret."

"Can I go with you?" Anna asked. "I want to give Darvin an apple." She grabbed one the apples from dinner.

_:I wouldn't mind an apple,:_ Ariel said entreatingly.

"You don't have to go," Malachi began.

Jerem laughed. "But now Rilyn wants an apple."

"We can bring lots of apples," Anna agreed.

With much laughter, Jerem and Anna carried all the apples out of the room.

"She's clearly not afraid of 'White Demons'," Alex observed.

"Her aunt gave her a lengthy explanation. Apparently the Firecat analogy works. Although Darvin took exception when I compared him to a cat."

"And a lengthy explanation from an aunt she never knew she had is convincing?"

Malachi grimaced. "Her aunt is a respected and feared figure of authority, even for a child who is being told the world she knows is upside down."

"A respected and _feared_ figure of authority?" Alex's eyebrows crept towards his unruly blonde hair.

Another grimace. "Shesablackrobe," Malachi mumbled.

"What?"

"She's a Black-robe."

"_What?!"_

"Anna's aunt is a Black-robe Sunpriestess."

"Please tell me this is a joke."

"No joke. Lillian saved my life. I got myself captured when I pressed a little too hard; Lillian used her Gifts to rescue me while making everyone else think I died. I spent a month letting broken ribs heal in her closet."

"You spent a month in a Black-robe's closet?" Alex tried not to stare at Malachi as if he grew a second head or started acting crazy.

_:Darvin says she was definitely a Black-robe,:_ Ariel confirmed.

Okay. Not crazy.

"We became friends."

Not completely, at least.

"I really need to speak Valdemaran more," Anna told the young Herald – in Karsite. "But your sentences are all backward, so it's not very comfortable."

"How long have you been learning Valdemaran?"

"Almost two weeks."

The Herald laughed. "Wait! No! Don't kick me! I wasn't being rude!"

Anna narrowed her eyes at him. But she didn't kick him. Yet.

"What I meant was that you're doing pretty well for only two weeks. My mentor, Alex, he'd been learning Karsite for almost two _months_ when he called his instructor a shiny tomato instead of saying good afternoon."

Anna giggled. She was glad she hadn't kicked him this time. "Those _do_ sort of sound similar," she admitted.

"Not similar enough. Everyone teased him about it. But you've only been learning for _two weeks_. You'll get better, don't worry."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. How old are you?"

"Almost eleven!" Her birthing day was in a few weeks.

"Am I allowed to know what Malachi is telling Alex?" Jerem asked.

Anna thought about it. "Well, he did say you could stay and listen, but it's just more stuff about how amazing my aunt is. She's a really powerful Sunpriestess but she's also really nice, and really worried about me and all the littles like me who don't have anyone else to look out for them. She saved my life," Anna told him proudly. "And she was really sad that she couldn't do everything."

Anna looked around the stable yard at the three Companions. _That _one was Darvin, but, "Which one is yours?" she asked.

Jerem laughed. He laid an arm around one of the mares' necks. "This beautiful lady here is Rilyn. I'd call her mine, but she would point out that _I'm hers_." The mare whickered and bobbed her head, which she then snaked around to steal an apple from his pocket. "Hey! I was _going_ to give you that!"

The mare shook her head and made a laughing noise. Anna giggled and held out an apple to Darvin. As the stallion chewed his snack, Anna offered an apple to the third Companion, Alex's Ariel. The Companion mare took it gratefully. Jerem meanwhile, held up another apple to taunt his Companion. Rilyn knew how to tease back, however.

Anna wished the others at the Cloister could be here. No one could be afraid of Demon-Riders and their Hell-Horses if they watched while Rilyn chased her Herald around the yard, trying to steal the apple out of his hand, while Jerem tried to keep the fruit out of the mare's reach.

Anna watched them and laughed so hard she forgot about the other apples she carried until a Companion nudged her shoulder.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed in Karsite as she turned around to offer an apple. She met the Companion's big blue eye and fell into its depths.

_:Don't be sorry, Anna. I am Sandra and you are my Chosen,: _a voice in her head told her. _:You are mine and I am yours and I will never leave you. I'll be happy to take that apple, though.:_


End file.
